#pov the cup is toast

[shubblelive]

isn’t is so nice that like all our favourite streamers are buddies? like with music artists or actors or whatever, they mention another celebrity and everyone goes nuts that they know that person exists, but here it’s like shelby is friends with ranboo who’s friends with wilbur who’s friends with tommy who’s friends with phil who’s friends with niki who’s friends with jack who’s friends with crumb who’s friends with ted who’s friends with

[jalicecookie]

Breakfast Time

You want to share your Breakfast with your Appa. But the Frontmen is very busy doing a Phonecall.

"Appa aaaah!" - you were sitting in your High Chair in the small private Kitchen Area that belongs to the Frontmen. And you wanted him to eat some of your Breakfast as well.

But the frontman—also known as In-Ho Hwang—wasn't focused on breakfast or your playfully endearing words about how you absolutely wanted to share your breakfast with him and how he should go aaaah. You watch as your father walks past you with the phone to his ear, giving direct instructions.

Did he talk to the Circleleys, Squarys, and Tree-Angles? No, no, Appa needs breakfast too. Like he always tells you—eating breakfast is important.

You tilt your head for a moment while your Appa adjusts the mask and yet actually has the nerve to turn his back on you and thus also on the high chair.

"APPA!" - you squeak once in a very loud, shrill tone, and you notice that In-Ho, despite the mask, flinches at the volume.

But he only makes a brief hand gesture—like a puppy does when it wants attention—as if it were—Just a minute, Appa's busy.

"…no…it will be carried out as discussed. The VIP area will be adjusted, and this year's game selection will be discussed in more detail at the next meeting…."

Why isn't Appa hungry? Sometimes he drinks a lot of coffee for breakfast and then pretends to be tired.

You slap your right hand extra loudly on the small plate surrounding the highchair and repeat until the frontman turns toward you in one fluid motion. Even though you can't read his facial expression under his mask, you read his body language and the nonverbal gestures he uses in everyday life when you're a little fussy or tired or want his attention.

"Appa breakfast! Nom nom! A-P-P-A!" You keep trying to make eye contact with your father, who finally turns to face you when you lean a little too far forward in the high chair. The frontman uses his free hand to forcefully push you back into a less dangerous sitting position and continue talking on the phone.

"…and it…wait a minute - Appa heard you, but it's your breakfast. No more gymnastics in the high chair - the island's only doctor is… busy elsewhere," the frontman said, and you looked at him for a moment, then you looked at the hand, or rather the glove, that was lovingly holding you in place - not that you were planning on falling out of the high chair…but those words didn't change anything.

So you held out your hand with the small piece of toast again, so close that it almost touched the mask.

"Appa aaah! Nom Nom. Breakfast too!" you say, giggling, and a short, multi-part laugh sounds from the phone in the frontman's other hand.

Definitely from the guards.

In-Ho sighed under his mask. He knew he'd miss this discussion and your worried demeanor that he'd definitely starve without sharing breakfast. And your job as a super-awesome toddler princess was… to share your breakfast with In-Ho.

"…I'll call back in five minutes," with these words, In-Ho ended the call, first putting the phone aside and then removing the frontman mask.

His dark eyes met your innocent smile.

"Me share! Breakfast!" you said proudly, holding out the piece of toast to your Appa again.

"That's an exception, understood?"

You clap your little hands once and are happy when your father eats the piece of toast.

You pat the high chair with both hands again and open your mouth.

"Aaah? Help Appa!"

Now it was In-Ho who let out a quiet laugh.

"That was your plan, hm? Maybe… I'll eat your breakfast by myself, just for me - maybe Appa is so hungry that he'll eat his little princess too, hm?"

And a bright, childlike, carefree laugh escaped you as In-Ho started tickling you with a few targeted gestures and finally picked you up.

It was the little things that counted sometimes.

The first cup of coffee in the morning…

or sharing breakfast with the people who matter most to us!

THE END

[soulofapatrick]

I'm Not Watching You - Ridoc Gamlyn x Female Reader

Summary: Ridoc catches you staring at him

Warnings: fluff; flirting; implied smut to happen

Words: 2.7K

Notes: I can do a smutty part two hehehe

Y/N’s POV 

The dining hall at Basgiath buzzes with the chaotic symphony of clinking goblets, hearty laughter, and the metallic scrape of knives against plates. The air smells of roasted meat and spiced ale, mingling with the smoky scent of the torches lining the walls. Our squad claims one end of a long wooden table near the center of the room. Despite the cacophony, our corner feels lighter than usual, celebratory even. We’ve made it through another week of training—still breathing, still together—and that alone feels like something worth toasting.

Ridoc Gamlyn sits across from me, lounging in his chair like the rules of gravity don’t apply to him. His brown skin glows in the warm light of the torches, and his floppy brown hair—forever unruly—falls into his face no matter how often he shoves it back. There’s a spark in his dark eyes, a mischief that matches the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He’s spinning a fork between his fingers, the casual rhythm oddly mesmerising, and I find myself staring.

Big mistake.

“You’ve been staring at me all night, love,” Ridoc drawls, his voice cutting through the din with effortless precision. He sets the fork down with a deliberate clink and leans forward, the gleam in his eyes making my stomach twist. “Should I be flattered or concerned?”

I stiffen, heat rising to my cheeks as I scramble for a response. “I’m not staring at you.”

His eyebrows shoot up, his expression dripping with faux innocence. “Oh? Then who were you looking at? Barlowe? Imogen?” He grins, leaning even closer, his head tilting just enough for that ridiculous mop of hair to flop sideways. “Or maybe you’ve finally realised how devastatingly handsome I look in candlelight.”

I snort, rolling my eyes so hard it’s a miracle they don’t get stuck. “Candlelight? What century do you think this is?”

“It’s called ambiance, darling,” Ridoc says, completely unfazed. He spreads his arms wide, gesturing to the flickering torches. “Something you clearly haven’t learned to appreciate.”

“You’re insufferable,” I mutter, shoving a piece of bread into my mouth to keep from smiling.

Ridoc notices anyway—because of course he does—and his smirk transforms into a triumphant grin. “Ah, there it is. You’re smiling. That counts as a win for me.”

“It doesn’t,” I shoot back, though the words lack conviction.

“Sure it does,” he says, sitting back again with the kind of casual confidence that sets my teeth on edge. His chair creaks dangerously under his weight, but he doesn’t seem to care. “I always win.”

Imogen, seated a few spots down, snickers and raises her goblet in our direction. “Ridoc, leave her alone before she stabs you with her dinner knife.”

Ridoc’s grin widens. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s tried,” he says, winking at me.

I groan and pick up my cup of water, draining it in one long sip to avoid saying something I’ll regret. He’s relentless, a constant thorn in my side—and yet, for reasons I can’t fully understand, I don’t hate it.

As the night wears on, the squad’s conversations shift to trading stories from the week. Close calls in training, spectacular failures during drills, and ridiculous mistakes that somehow didn’t get anyone killed. Ridoc’s quick wit earns plenty of laughs, but I can’t help noticing how his gaze keeps flickering back to me, as if checking to see if I’m still paying attention.

It’s maddening.

I hate how aware I am of him—the way his laughter sends a strange ache through my chest, the way his teasing feels oddly personal, like it’s meant for me and no one else.

Eventually, the others start drifting away, one by one, until it’s just Ridoc and me left at the table. The noise of the dining hall fades to a distant hum, leaving an almost intimate stillness between us.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” Ridoc says, his voice softer now, the usual teasing edge absent. He rests his elbows on the table, his fingers tapping a steady rhythm against the wood.

I shrug, unsure how to respond. “Just thinking about the squad. How lucky we’ve been.”

Ridoc nods, his expression unusually thoughtful. “Yeah. Not everyone’s got what we have. Iron Squad’s something special.”

He pauses, his fingers stilling as he meets my gaze. “And so are you, you know.”

I blink, caught completely off guard. “What?”

“You heard me,” he says, his tone lighter now, though his eyes stay serious. “You’re sharp. Fierce. And you keep me on my toes, which I appreciate more than I probably should.”

My stomach twists again, and this time I know it’s not from the wine. “I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult,” I manage, my voice quieter than I’d like.

Ridoc grins, but it’s softer now, lacking the usual bravado. “It’s a compliment. Trust me.”

For once, I think he might actually mean it.

He stands abruptly, pushing his chair back with a scrape that echoes through the nearly empty hall. “Get some rest, love,” he says, tipping an imaginary hat before turning to leave.

I should let him go—I really should—but the words spill out before I can stop them. “Wait.”

Ridoc pauses, glancing back over his shoulder with a curious tilt of his head. “What’s this? You actually want me to stay?”

I roll my eyes, trying to ignore the rapid thudding of my heart. “Don’t make it weird, Gamlyn.”

His smirk returns, slow and deliberate, as he steps closer. “Too late. But I’ll bite—what is it?”

I open my mouth to respond, but no words come. The tension between us feels electric, crackling in the air like a storm about to break.

Ridoc stops just in front of me, close enough that I can see the faint freckles dusting his nose and the way his dark eyes gleam in the low light. His gaze drops briefly to my lips before flicking back up to meet mine.

“Say the word, and I’ll leave,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “But if you don’t…”

I don’t let him finish.

Before I can second-guess myself, I grab the front of his jacket and pull him down. Our lips collide, and for a moment, the rest of the world ceases to exist. He’s warm and solid, his hands finding my waist as he kisses me back with a fierceness that takes my breath away.

When we finally break apart, I’m left gasping, my pulse pounding in my ears. Ridoc’s smirk is gone, replaced by something softer, something real.

“Well,” he says, his forehead resting lightly against mine. “That was unexpected.”

“Shut up, Ridoc,” I whisper, but there’s no bite to the words.

His grin returns, bright and genuine. “You know, I could get used to this.”

“Don’t push your luck,” I warn, though I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips.

Ridoc chuckles, his thumb brushing softly against my side. “Too late.”

And just like that, everything shifts. It’s still us—but better. Something new, something I’m not sure I want to let go of.

The dining hall feels distant now, the noise fading into a comforting hum as Ridoc’s hand lingers on my waist. His touch is warm, grounding in a way that makes me want to lean in, even as my brain screams at me to step back. I shouldn’t feel this way—not about him—but there’s something disarming about the way his eyes meet mine, steady and unguarded.

“You’re staring now,” I manage, my voice softer than intended, like I’m trying to break the tension without shattering it completely.

Ridoc chuckles, low and quiet, his thumb tracing idle circles against my side. “Can you blame me?”

“Yes,” I reply, though the word falters, betraying the conviction I wish I had.

His smirk softens, and for once, it’s free of his usual bravado. “You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he murmurs, and the way he says it feels less like teasing and more like truth.

“Ridoc…” I warn, though it comes out weak, almost breathless.

“Alright, alright.” He steps back slightly, giving me space but not entirely letting go. His hands hover, like he’s not quite ready to lose the connection. “I’ll behave. For now.”

I narrow my eyes, trying to reclaim some semblance of control. “That’s a first.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he fires back, the grin creeping back onto his face. “I make no promises.”

I roll my eyes, but the smile I’m fighting slips through anyway. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he says, tilting his head with mock innocence, “you kissed me. Funny how that works.”

Heat floods my face, and I shove lightly at his chest. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Ridoc laughs, his gaze bright and alive with something I can’t name. “Not a chance, love.”

The easy banter fades into a quiet moment, the kind that feels heavier than it should. Ridoc shifts, his confidence softening at the edges as he glances down at our hands, his fingers brushing against mine. “Dinner tomorrow?” he asks, the question casual but his tone anything but.

I blink, caught off guard. “You’re asking me on a date?”

His grin is still there, but it’s gentler now, almost shy. “I mean, we’ve already kissed. Might as well see where this goes.”

Something in his sincerity makes my chest tighten. Ridoc, insufferable flirt and relentless tease, is suddenly serious in a way that feels terrifying and exciting all at once. I hesitate, the weight of the moment pressing against me, before finally nodding.

“Fine,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant. “But if you bring up candlelight even once, I’m stabbing you with a dinner knife.”

Ridoc’s laugh is warm and unapologetic as he takes my hand, his thumb brushing against my knuckles. “Noted.”

Ridoc falls into step beside me, a teasing smirk playing on his lips as we make our way down the dimly lit hallway. The flickering torches on the walls cast long shadows, but his presence is anything but subtle. He walks so close that our arms brush every few steps, and the air between us seems to hum with a tension neither of us is quite ready to name.

“You’re awfully quiet,” he drawls, his tone lazy, like he’s savouring the moment. “Planning your next move? Or just imagining all the ways you’re going to stab me with a dinner knife?”

I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, trying not to smile. “Maybe both.”

He chuckles, low and warm, and the sound sends a shiver down my spine. “You’ve got quite the imagination. Should I be flattered that I’ve taken up so much space in that pretty little head of yours?”

I roll my eyes, though the corners of my mouth betray me by twitching upward. “It’s less ‘taking up space’ and more ‘annoying squatter I can’t evict.’”

Ridoc places a hand over his heart, feigning a wounded expression. “Ouch. And here I thought we were making progress. Guess I’ll have to work harder.”

“Don’t strain yourself,” I retort, though the playful edge in my voice robs the words of any real sting.

He leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. “Oh, I won’t. You’re worth the effort.”

That makes me falter, my breath hitching just enough for him to notice. His grin widens, and I hate that he catches every little crack in my defences. It’s like he’s made a game out of unraveling me, and worse, he’s annoyingly good at it.

By the time we reach my door, the weight of the moment feels heavier, charged with something that wasn’t there before—or maybe it was, and I’d just been ignoring it. I stop in front of the wooden frame, my hand hovering over the doorknob as I try to decide if I’m ready to let this—whatever this is—go any further.

Ridoc leans casually against the doorframe, his body angled toward me, his hand braced above my head. He’s so close now that I can feel the heat radiating off him, and I have to fight the urge to step back—or closer. His gaze searches mine, the teasing glint in his eyes tempered by something softer, more sincere.

“You’re staring again,” I say quietly, trying to regain some semblance of control.

He doesn’t flinch. “Maybe I am. Can you blame me?”

I open my mouth to answer, but the words get stuck in my throat when his free hand comes up to brush a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers linger at my jaw, his touch warm and grounding, and suddenly the door at my back feels like the only thing keeping me upright.

“You should stop,” I manage to say, though my voice wavers.

His lips curve into a soft, knowing smile. “Do you really want me to?”

Damn him. Damn the way he looks at me, like he’s seeing something no one else does. Like he’s daring me to stop hiding and meet him halfway. My silence is answer enough, and his gaze flickers down to my lips for just a moment before returning to my eyes.

“I should probably say goodnight,” he murmurs, though he doesn’t move an inch. “But I don’t really want to.”

“Then don’t,” I whisper, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

That’s all the permission he needs. Ridoc closes the gap between us, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that’s as infuriatingly confident as he is. His hand slides to my waist, pulling me flush against him, and the intensity of it steals the breath from my lungs. There’s nothing tentative about the way he kisses me; it’s all heat and certainty, like he’s been waiting for this moment just as much as I have.

I fist my hands in the front of his shirt, anchoring myself as the world tilts beneath my feet. He kisses me like he has all the time in the world, his lips moving against mine with a maddening mixture of tenderness and hunger. When his tongue brushes against mine, I gasp softly, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his grip on my waist tightening.

By the time we break apart, we’re both breathing heavily, our foreheads resting together. Ridoc’s eyes are darker now, his smirk gone, replaced by something raw and unguarded.

“You’re dangerous,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough. “You know that?”

I let out a shaky laugh, trying to ignore the rapid pounding of my heart. “Funny. I was about to say the same thing about you.”

The corner of his mouth twitches upward, but there’s an earnestness in his expression that takes me off guard. He raises his hand, his thumb brushing softly along my jawline. “So… do I get to come inside, or are you going to make me sleep in the hallway after that?”

I arch a brow, reaching for the door handle behind me. “You’re awfully confident for someone who’s pushing their luck.”

“It’s part of my charm,” he says with a wink, though the way his eyes flicker down to my lips betrays just how much he’s hedging his bets.

Instead of answering, I twist the doorknob and push the door open, the wood creaking softly. His smirk falters for half a second, replaced by genuine surprise, but I don’t give him a chance to recover. I grab the front of his shirt and tug him inside, the door clicking shut behind us.

His hands are on me in an instant, his lips finding mine again with renewed fervour. This time, there’s no hesitation, no testing the waters. It’s all fire and heat, the kind of kiss that leaves no room for second-guessing. His hands slide down my back, pulling me even closer, and I let myself get lost in him, in the way he kisses me like I’m the only thing that matters.

“Shut up, Ridoc,” I whisper against his lips, and for once, he actually listens.

Part Two Here ⇒ You Can Watch Me

Fourth Wing Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

A family thing

Written for the September pop-up challenge of the @steddieholidaydrabbles blog

Prompt: Anniversary

Rated: T

Tags: Post-Vecna; Everybody lives; Recovery; Disabled Eddie; POV Wayne Munson; Good uncle Wayne Munson; Implied sexual content; Domestic fluff; Found family

The sounds coming from the kitchen pull Wayne from his sleep much earlier than he'd like after a night shift. He lies awake for a while, cursing the government. Sure, they covered Eddie’s medical bills and bought them the new trailer, but would it have killed them to get one with thicker walls? He doesn't need to hear everything the boy gets up to. 

He's almost managed to drift off again when a clatter and a string of swear words make him shoot upright. He barrels out into the corridor that separates the living space from the bedrooms, almost colliding with Steve, who has just barged from Eddie’s room. His eyes are bleary, his hair a tousled mess. He's wearing boxers and a familiar guitar pick necklace, and that is it. 

“Ed?” Wayne asks, ignoring how Steve freezes at the sight of him. “What happened?” 

Eddie, on the kitchen floor in a heap of gangly limbs and fallen crutches, groans. “Wayne! You weren't supposed to wake up.” 

“Yeah, you're making that kinda hard,” Wayne mumbles, eyeing the shattered plates and spilled food on the ground. Toast and bacon and pancakes. There's something stuck in Eddie’s hair that looks like scrambled eggs. 

“What the hell?” Steve mutters, bridging the few steps into the kitchen and dropping into a crouch beside Eddie. Wayne stays where he is and watches. The way Steve wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist to pull him up, careful not to hurt him. How Eddie slings bony arms over Steve’s shoulders, fingers grazing the scars on the boy's back. 

“Why didn't you ask me for help?” Steve asks. The rising sun basks the kitchen in oranges and golds, and for a second, Wayne is overcome by the thought that he mustn't blink, or they'll vanish. “I could've-” 

“What, on this highest of holidays?” Eddie asks, gesturing dramatically as Steve lowers him into one of the kitchen chairs. “Have you no respect for tradition? It is my responsibility and my duty to do this alone.” 

Steve blinks, then looks over at Wayne. 

“Okay? I don't get it.” 

Eddie cackles, gently pushing him aside to beckon Wayne closer. 

“Happy Uncle's Day!” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Wayne grumbles, bending at the hip so that Eddie can hug him, but there's an annoying sting behind his eyes. For a moment all he can think is how close he came to losing all of this.

“What the fuck is Uncle's Day?” Steve asks. He's eyeing the calendar on the wall like he's expecting it to spout an extra holiday. 

Eddie scoffs. “Only the most important holiday of the year? You need to stay up to date on-” 

“When Ed was nine years old,” Wayne explains, making his way over to the coffee pot, “he came home one day, seething and spitting venom, ‘cause his teacher had them making Father's Day cards.” 

“Why would I be making that asshole a fucking card?” Eddie grumbles. A pink blush has erupted from the collar of his shirt, but Wayne isn’t sure if it's because of the childhood story or because of the way Steve has pulled out the chair next to his and is finger-combing bits of egg from his curls. “The only thing I should've given him is a kick in-” 

“That's exactly what he said back then,” Wayne says, pouring himself a cup and leaning against the counter. “So we came up with an idea.” 

Steve frowns at Eddie. “Uncle's Day?” 

Eddie beams. “The anniversary of the day Wayne took me in.”

“Dunno if took in is the right term,” Wayne hums around his first sip. “You pretty much let yourself in and refused to leave.” 

Eddie waves him off, as if to say that he won’t argue about the technicalities. Steve’s eyes, meanwhile, have grown large. 

“Wait,” he says. “That's today? Why didn’t- … I’m sorry, I had no idea.” 

Eddie cocks his head at him, smile bright and incredibly fond. It makes a familiar warmth spread behind Wayne’s collarbone, one that has nothing at all to do with the coffee. “Why would you be sorry?” 

Steve gestures awkwardly at the mess that is the kitchen. “This is a family thing. If you’d told me, I’d have left you alone.” 

Eddie laughs. On the tabletop, his fingers find Steve’s. 

“Exactly,” he says. “This is a family thing. You're right where you belong. Ain't he, Wayne?” 

Wayne regards them - two men littered in battle scars, leaning into each other in the hazy morning light - and thinks of a hurt little boy who was too scared to let anyone in. 

“Can't argue with that,” he says. 

Steve's face lights up as if he'd just invited him to spend Christmas morning. 

“I- … thank you,” he stutters, and Wayne gets a feeling that he, too, is still learning to let people in. “Let me clean this up, and then I'll make us new-” 

“Stevie,” Eddie says, and hooks one finger into the necklace to pull him back. His next words are a murmur against the shell of Steve's ear, so low Wayne almost misses them. “Maybe get dressed first, darling.” 

The last thing Wayne sees of Steve as he flees into Eddie’s room is the blush coloring his neck and shoulders. 

“Do you have to tease him like that?” he asks, starting to gather the broken plates off the ground. 

Eddie shrugs. “He can take it. I think that's a basic requirement for joining this family?”  

His eyes find Wayne's, searching for a reaction. 

“Ed,” he says, picking up the crutches and handing them over. “My only requirement ever was for you to be happy. I think your boy has long proven himself in that regard. Now, run over to the Mayfields and ask if we can borrow some eggs, yeah?” 

As Eddie bolts out with a blush matching Steve's, Wayne settles into the newly vacated chair, allowing himself a long sip of coffee and a content sigh. 

It's gonna be a good Uncle's Day. 

[aftertheleaving]

BED ME IN BLÜDHAVEN

Pairing: Dick Grayson x fem!Reader

Word Count: 3,625

Genre: Smut, one-shot

Warnings: Explicit smut, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), semi-public flirting, alcohol (champagne), mention of stripping (non-judgmental), praise kink, overstimulation, creampie, soft aftercare

Notes: First fic!! Be gentle. This was pure indulgence and I regret nothing. This has been sat in haitus until 3 hours ago for *checks date* 11 months. Uhmmmm yeah so First time writing smut.

Set loosely post-gala, reader-insert format, 2nd person POV. Dick is a menace in the sheets and you’ll thank him for it.

You told your friend you weren’t the right person to bring to a gala — let alone a Wayne gala. But she had insisted, and you’re not a bad friend, so you let all further arguments die in your throat and agreed.

She dressed you up, picked the dress, did your makeup — even chose your perfume, all under the guise that for your first time attending a gala, you had to be perfect.

And now, here you are: pressed into an alcove with none other than Richard Grayson himself — or, as he prefers, Dick.

You’d both been eyeing each other all night from across the room. Slowly inching closer with every pass, every glance, every accidental brush of attention. Then came the introductions. Aimless, flirty conversation that got nowhere fast — but neither of you seemed to care.

Now, five champagne flutes later, you're half-dizzy and mulling over his offer to go to his place.

“Yeah, sure,” you say, trying to keep your tone casual. You fail — it comes out a little breathless.

He smiles. “Sweet.”

He gently takes you by the arm, the warmth of his hand steady and confident as he leads you through the crowd. Before stepping out, he disposes of both your champagne flutes with a grace that feels almost too polished. You notice he’s only had one drink all night — deliberate. Responsible.

At the bike, he crouches without a word and starts unlacing his shoes.

“What are you—?”

“You’re not walking into my building barefoot,” he says. “And you can’t ride in those heels.”

You blink. He slides his shoes toward you.

“And here,” he adds, peeling off his jacket, “you’ll want this. That dress might hike up when you’re on the bike.”

You slip it on. It’s warm. Smells like him.

The ride to Blüdhaven blurs. His bike hums beneath you, the city lights flashing past like comets. One of his hands stays on your thigh behind him the entire way, thumb tracing soft, slow circles. Comforting. Possessive. It only ever leaves you when he shifts his grip to navigate sharp corners — and every time it returns, it feels bolder.

By the time you pull up to his apartment, your heart is pounding again.

He helps you off the bike, keeps his hand on your lower back as he walks you upstairs. You barely register the sound of the key in the door before it swings shut — and then he’s on you.

His hand cups your cheek as his lips crash against yours, warm and demanding. His other hand finds your waist, drawing you flush against him.

“I’ve wanted you since I saw you walk into that gala,” he murmurs against your mouth, voice low and rough. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You let out a slight whimper when his hands grip your waist a bit tighter and he tilts his head to kiss you at a better angle, biting your lip and running his tongue along it, prodding you to open up. You obey his request and part your lips, letting him in — his tongue sliding against yours with a hunger that makes your knees wobble.

Without breaking the kiss, his hands shift, firm on your hips, guiding you backward with slow, intentional steps. You feel the click of a door opening behind you, cool air brushing the back of your legs as you step into the darker room.

It smells like him.

Faint leather, like the inside of a motorcycle jacket. Gasoline — just a trace, like it’s clinging to the edge of a memory. And something warmer… maybe vanilla, or toasted marshmallow — you can’t tell, only that it’s soft and sweet and him.

The air feels heavier in here.

He walks you backward until your knees bump the edge of the bed. Finally, he breaks the kiss — not harshly, but slowly, like he’s reluctant to let go. His eyes lock onto yours as he presses a hand to your shoulder and gently nudges you back.

You fall onto the mattress, breath catching in your throat, and he just watches for a second — gaze roaming over you, lips parted like he’s trying to memorize the sight of you laid out for him.

He stands there for another second or two before he swiftly pulls his shirt over his head, muscles flexing with the movement, the soft lighting casting golden shadows along the lines of his chest and stomach. You barely have a second to breathe before he’s on the bed, knees sinking into the mattress as he crawls forward, slow and deliberate, until he hovers over you.

He holds himself up on his forearms, dipping low enough that the warmth of his breath fans across your skin. One hand reaches up, fingers threading gently through your hair to tuck a strand behind your ear. Then he leans in — lips brushing your jaw with light, teasing kisses that gradually trail down to the sensitive spot beneath your earlobe.

He lingers there, open-mouthed, sucking kisses into your skin until you're arching slightly into him, head tilting to give him more. A shaky, breathy moan leaves your lips as your eyes flutter shut — every nerve buzzing under the slow drag of his mouth.

His hands roam your sides, gliding up and down in slow, reverent strokes like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you with touch alone. Then, pausing for a breath, he lifts one hand — calloused fingers brushing over your left shoulder where your dress strap rests.

He hooks a finger under it, but doesn’t tug. Not yet. His head lifts, and he looks down at you — his expression soft but intense, eyes dark with want, but patient.

“May I?” he asks, voice low and slightly husky, one brow raised ever so slightly, as if even now he wants to make sure you’re with him. That you want this too.

You nod, lips parting slightly as your hand reaches up to pull him back down into a kiss. He meets you halfway, kissing you deeply before pulling away just enough to tap your hip.

“Lift up for me,” he murmurs against your lips.

You do, hips tilting up as he gently slides the dress down your body, slow and careful, like he’s unwrapping a gift he’s waited forever to open. The fabric slips past your legs and off the bed, leaving you in nothing but your panties — the built-in bra long gone with the dress.

He breathes out, eyes dragging down your form with something reverent behind them. “So, so pretty,” he whispers, voice soft but full of need.

Then he leans back in, lips trailing from your mouth down your jaw again, to your neck, pressing slow kisses that grow warmer and more desperate. His path continues downward — past the hollow of your throat, over the tops of your breasts — until his mouth finds one.

His hand slides up to cup the other as his lips wrap around your nipple, tongue flicking, sucking gently, then harder when you let out a sharp breath and a soft moan. He groans in response, clearly loving every sound he pulls from you. He gives the same attention to the other, lips and hands working in tandem, until your back arches and your fingers tangle in the sheets.

Then, with one final kiss between your breasts, he begins to move lower. Kissing down your stomach, slow and thorough, until he reaches the waistband of your panties.

He pauses, looking up at you.

“Please,” you breathe, voice almost shaking, chest rising and falling with every second of tension.

He smirks — a soft, knowing thing — and dips down, using his mouth to grip the waistband, pulling them down with maddening slowness until they’re off and tossed somewhere behind him.

He sits back on his haunches, eyes roaming your body like he’s starving. His lips part, breath coming heavier now.

“So beautiful,” he whispers again, almost to himself.

Then he leans forward, hands running slowly up the outsides of your thighs, thumbs brushing the sensitive skin near your hips.

He shifts slowly, lowering himself between your legs, hands spreading your thighs gently as he settles in. His breath hitches the moment he sees you — already wet, glistening in the low light of his room.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, almost reverently, eyes locked on your center.

He swallows thickly, then looks up at you one more time. “You sure you want to do this?”

You nod, a need-filled whisper tumbling from your lips. “Need you, Dick.”

That’s all he needs.

He nods once, serious and calm, and brings his hand up. His fingers trail lightly through your folds, parting you slowly. You twitch under his touch, already slick and pulsing with need.

“You’re so wet for me already,” he says softly, almost in awe, “and I haven’t even really touched you yet.”

Before you can reply, mid-sentence — with absolutely no warning — he presses a single finger into you. You gasp, hips twitching up, unprepared for the sudden fullness.

“God,” he groans, eyes flicking up to yours, “so tight... and it’s just one finger.”

He starts a slow rhythm, finger curling just right with each pump, stretching you, loosening you up. The way your body squeezes around the digit makes him groan again.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours now, “taking me so well already.”

His free hand rests on your thigh, grounding you while the other works steadily. Each movement is precise, practiced — meant to tease and prep and make you fall apart just from this.

“You’re doing so good,” he praises softly, voice dropping lower, “gonna make you feel even better.”

Without pulling away, he leans in to kiss your inner thigh, slow and reverent, while his hand keeps its rhythm — and then he slides in a second finger. You arch beneath him, a breathy moan slipping from your lips at the stretch.

“Still so tight,” he mutters, almost to himself. “But fuck… your body’s taking it.”

His fingers curl, hitting that sensitive spot just right, and then—his thumb presses down, firm and unrelenting, against your clit. He begins slow, steady circles, gauging your every reaction, eyes locked on your face.

“I want you to come just like this,” he whispers, voice deep and rough. “On my fingers. Want to feel you pulse around me, hear you moan for me.”

His mouth is everywhere now—kisses on your inner thigh, your hipbone, then back to your stomach. But his hand never stops, never slows. He keeps curling his fingers perfectly with each stroke, rubbing tight circles over your clit with his thumb.

“You’re getting close, aren’t you?” he murmurs, pressing his lips to your stomach, smirking when you whimper and nod. “I can feel it… the way you’re clenching—fuck, that’s so hot.”

His pace intensifies just slightly, not rushing, but purposeful. You’re shaking now, legs tensing under his weight.

“That’s it,” he coaxes, voice low and urgent. “Come for me. Let me feel you.”

Your breathing hitches, the pressure inside you coiling tighter with every curl of his fingers and swipe of his thumb. Each motion is deliberate, practiced — he knows exactly what he’s doing. Your body’s trembling, the pleasure building sharp and dizzying like a wave gathering force just before the crash.

Your hips buck without your permission, grinding into his hand, chasing the high that’s about to hit. Your thighs tense around his arm, your hand flying out to grip at his forearm—digging in, nails leaving crescent-shaped marks as the rhythm of his fingers sends you teetering on the edge.

“God—Dick, I—” you gasp, barely forming words. The pressure peaks, and then—

You fall apart.

Your whole body jolts with the release. Your back arches, mouth falling open in a silent cry before the moans spill out. Your muscles clench hard around his fingers, pulsing with the force of your orgasm. Your head tilts back into the sheets, lips parted, and all you can do is ride the waves of pleasure as they crash over you, again and again.

He doesn’t stop—doesn’t even hesitate.

The second your orgasm hits, he pulls his fingers out, slick and shining, and lowers himself without a word. His hands find your thighs, spreading you open, holding you in place as his mouth meets your center with reverence and hunger.

He moans the moment his tongue finds you, like you’re his favorite flavor.

“Fuck—you taste so good,” he groans against you, voice muffled by your heat. “So sweet… I need more.”

His tongue starts slow, long languid licks through your folds, savoring every drop of your release. His grip on your thighs tightens, holding you open for him as he kisses your pussy like he means to worship it — teasing, tracing circles, then diving in deeper, tongue flicking your clit and drawing out another moan from your already oversensitive body.

“You’re perfect,” he breathes between licks. “Could do this all fucking night.”

And with the way he’s eating you out like a man starved, you believe it.

You’re shaking.

Every nerve ending is raw now, buzzing with the aftershocks of the first orgasm, and yet he’s still between your thighs, merciless in his patience.

His tongue drags up your slit in maddeningly slow, treacherous licks, savoring every flick, every reaction he wrings from you. It’s too much — but not enough. Your hips jerk at each pass of his tongue, and when he lets his finger join in, pressing a lazy, slow circle against your clit — you whimper, thighs twitching.

“Fuck—Dick, I can’t—” you gasp, the edge of overstimulation turning everything sharp and electric.

But when you try to clamp your legs closed around his head, he just grunts against you, unbothered. One strong arm holds your thigh back, his elbow braced just right so the hand circling your clit doesn’t stop. His other palm keeps your leg spread wide. You’re helpless like this. Exposed, pulsing, trembling — and he knows it.

“C’mon, baby,” he mutters against your cunt, the vibration of his voice making you jolt. “Let me have one more. Just one more.”

The words send another jolt through you. Your hands fly to his hair, fisting tight, trying to ground yourself as he keeps licking—deliberate, torturous. He alternates between featherlight flicks and deep, flat swipes, never giving you the rhythm your body craves, just teasing and dragging it out.

You’re bucking into his face, whimpering now, moaning shamelessly as your second climax creeps up slow. So slow it feels unbearable. A dull burn, tightening and tightening until you’re panting, eyes screwed shut, fingers yanking at his hair.

And he’s so hard it hurts.

Still in his suit trousers, he can feel his cock throbbing, leaking through the fabric. But he doesn't stop. Can’t stop — not when your moans sound like this. Not when you're this wet and trembling against his mouth. Not when he can taste how close you are.

“Please—Dick, I—ohmygod—” Your breath comes in short, choked bursts as he presses his tongue hard against your clit now, sucking it between his lips just once before replacing it again with his fingers — faster, this time.

You’re spiraling.

The pressure explodes all at once.

Your body arches off the bed, thighs shaking as your orgasm crashes over you like a wave. Your breath stutters — a sob of pleasure ripping from your chest — and you can’t stop the way you cry out his name, drawn out and raw.

“Dick—fuck—!”

He doesn’t stop. He holds you open, tongue still working you through it, gentler now, but persistent. Like he’s determined to taste every shiver, every twitch of your hips. Your fingers are tangled in his hair, pulling, gripping tight as your body rides the high, drawn out by his hands, his mouth, his absolute devotion to your pleasure.

Finally, finally — the aftershocks subside. Your body slumps back to the mattress, limp, breathless, overwhelmed.

He pulls back just a bit, his mouth wet, lips parted. His eyes rake over you — all flushed skin and trembling limbs — and he looks proud, like he just unlocked some secret in you.

But then he shifts.

He starts crawling up the bed toward you, slow and deliberate. One hand slides up your thigh again, but this time it’s not to hold you still. It’s to press the thick, aching outline of his cock — still straining behind his dress pants — against the inside of your thigh.

“Can you give me one more?” he asks, voice rough, low, pupils blown wide with want. He leans in, mouth ghosting over your cheek as his hand trails from your thigh to your waist, anchoring there. “Can I have you now? I need you, baby. I need to feel you.”

And you can’t even think — the answer’s already leaving your lips before you’re aware of it.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Need you, Dick. Need your cock. Now.”

He groans, head falling to your shoulder as he curses under his breath — like those words alone nearly undid him.

“Fuck,” he says, voice hoarse. “Okay. I’ve got you.”

He slowly undoes the button on his pants, the faintest clink breaking the quiet between you. You watch as he pulls the zipper down and slides the fabric off, revealing his boxer briefs. His cock springs free, hard and leaking pre-cum, the tip glistening with anticipation as it presses gently against his stomach.

He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your collarbone, his breath warm against your skin. Then, with a slow, careful motion, he guides himself forward, the tip sliding just past your folds. His eyes lock onto yours, searching for any sign of discomfort or hesitation.

When you give the faintest nod, he eases in deeper, inch by inch, until he’s fully inside you. He pauses, giving you time to adjust, his hand steadying your leg as he shifts slowly. When you tap him gently, signaling he can move, he pulls back just slightly before sliding forward again.

Your moans mix together, low and urgent, as he sets a steady rhythm—changing the angle to find exactly where you need him. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, clutching his hair as he buries himself deeper, the tightness wrapping around him like a glove.

The heat between you intensifies as he moves, each slow thrust driving deeper, drawing out your moans. His grip on your hips tightens just enough to keep you grounded, while his other hand tangles in your hair, pulling you closer with every motion. Your body arches instinctively, matching his pace, craving more of the delicious pressure and connection.

His breath hitches against your skin as he kisses your jaw, trailing down to your neck with soft, desperate nips. The scent of him—something like leather and warmth—wraps around you, making your head spin.

You feel your walls flutter tightening around him as you edge closer to your release, the ache building hotter and hotter. He senses it too, his thrusts becoming more deliberate, deeper, seeking to push you over the edge. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

And then, with a shuddering moan, your body clenches around him, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave. He holds you steady, his own groan vibrating deep in his chest as he rides out your pleasure, lips pressed to your temple, whispering how beautiful you are.

He doesn't stop moving until his rhythm falters—thrusts turning sloppy, desperate—and the tight grip he has on your hips becomes possessive. His forehead presses to yours, lips parted as his breath fans over your cheek, and then with one deep, shuddering groan that rumbles through his chest—low, sinful, and wrecked—he spills inside you. The sound of his release, the heat of it, sends a final thrill down your spine.

For a moment, neither of you moves. He holds himself over you, catching his breath, eyes fluttering closed as he whispers your name like it’s sacred. Then, slowly and carefully, he lowers himself to rest on top of you, supporting most of his weight on his forearms, pressing a lingering kiss to your shoulder.

“You okay?” he murmurs against your skin, voice still hoarse and breathless.

You nod, still panting. “Yeah… more than okay.”

A soft, satisfied smile spreads across his face. “You’re amazing,” he says gently, brushing a stray hair from your face before slowly pulling out, hissing a little at the sensitivity.

You flinch slightly too, body twitching at the overstimulation. “Sorry,” he whispers with a wince. “I’ll be right back.”

He stands and disappears for a minute, returning with a warm, damp towel. “Let me take care of you,” he says softly, kneeling beside you as he starts to gently clean you up. Every so often, you twitch again and he murmurs apologies with every touch. Once he’s done, he sets the towel aside and offers you one of his shirts to slip into, waiting until you’re comfortable before quickly cleaning himself up too.

Then he climbs into bed beside you, pulling the blankets up over both your bodies. He reaches for you immediately, gathering you into his arms, your head tucked beneath his chin.

You feel his heartbeat slowing down against your cheek. His thumb strokes lazy circles along your back as you start to drift, and the last thing you hear is his voice, low and content:

“Stay with me tonight, yeah?"

You only manage a quiet, sleepy “yeah” in response as he presses a kiss to your hair—and though he doesn’t ask, you’re sure you feel him smile.

Tbh went better than I expected. Anyway I'm open to minor criticism and feedback on if I need improvements or some shit. Anyway bye bye.

[waataah]

Jealous/Possesive Sanji plagues my mind<3

✧ sanji vinsmoke x fem!reader ✧

｡･ﾟﾟ･ (nsfw, fem!reader, 18+ only, mdni, 3rd pov) ･ﾟﾟ･｡

content/cw: NSFW, heavy-petting, light-petting, kissing, praise, worship, jealousy, rough play, first-time and sexual themes.

summary: Sanji is quite the gentleman when he needs to be, especially around y/n. But once he sees you having a drink with Zoro can he contain the jealousy within him? Or will the gentleman's act come to an end?

word count: ~2041 words

・❥・Your body is all mine.

“So you and the chef have been dating for a while huh? Never thought that idiot would be able to maintain a relationship with anyone let alone a woman” the green-haired swordsman scoffed.

“Yeah I never thought I would date that perv either… but he grew on me what can I say?” she laughed in response to the other's words.

The two raised a toast and drank their problems away, because even in a perfectly healthy relationship, who doesn't have their own issues? The two gulp down their booze and laugh a bit over the pervy cook.

“You know Zoro I can tell he’s grown on you too y’know? You act like you hate him but everyone knows you're both friends” she laughs. 

“Shut up! Who would be friends with a loser like that idiot?” the green-haired man scoffed.

Y/n didn’t exactly enjoy her boyfriend being talked about like that by her friend but she usually overlooked it since she knew Zoro was typically like that.

While the two continued to chat and drink at the kitchen table, Sanji stood at the door that was slightly ajar. He lit his cigarette and listened to each word his girlfriend and the moss head would say. He felt a pang in his chest and knew he was jealous of the two of them laughing and having a drink with one another. He understood that y/n was his girlfriend but just the sight of his lover and the person he gets along with the least having a laugh still made his blood boil. 

After he heard y/n get up she said, “Well I have to get back for night watch, so same time tomorrow swordsman?”. Sanji quickly left upon hearing those words.

Zoro lifted his glass towards the girl and continued to drink the night away scoffing at the nickname you and the chef loved to call him. However, he did appreciate you occasionally taking over the night watch duty since he's the one who does it often. 

Y/n usually didn’t mind taking up night duty, the Thousand Sunny’s lookout tower was very secluded perfect for when she wanted alone time since she always shared a room with Robin and Nami. The look tower was a perfect place to have silence. But not tonight. 

Once in the tower, the hatch and ladder were closed and locked behind y/n with a cross-armed Sanji standing between her and the entrance.

“Hello, my dear~”.

“Sanji? What are you doing up weren't you asleep?” y/n was a bit shocked by the blonde waiting in the tower.

Sanji paced around the room and looked at all the workout equipment that Zoro had thrown about. He looked upset but y/n really didn’t understand why.

“Well I wanted to get a cup of tea and bring it over to my sweet y/n before heading to bed but it seemed the kitchen was occupied” he looked over with a strained smile. He took a drag from his cigarette and put it out, tossing it to the side not caring where it landed since it was “zoro’s space” after all.

It finally clicked with y/n, Sanji's tone of voice, and him seeing her with Zoro. He was jealous, though she doubted he would admit it. Y/n decided to stand still and wait for her lover to calm himself down. Eventually, he sighed and threw himself back onto the seats that lined the wall of the tower and gritted his teeth together.

“So… would you rather date that swordsman than a perv like me? You even take up guard duty for him every once in awhile…” he said with his head hanging low, he was pretty upset over the conversation he had heard. Sanji could feel his heart squish with pain, he hated being jealous. But he knew that just meant he did love y/n.

Y/n sighed and walked over to her lover, she tilted his chin up and gently placed a kiss on the blonde's lips. Sanji’s body shivered in response, his hand quickly making its way over to y/n’s waist and gripping onto it not wanting to ever let her go. 

“I think I like my pervy cook much more than anybody else” she giggled softly against his lips.

Sanji looked at her and pulled her by the waist to sit on his lap, y/n happily obliged. 

“Why do you take his guard duties?”.

“So I could have some alone time and let the poor guy rest”.

“Why do you drink with him every night?”.

“He’s the only other MAN who would give me slightly more serious life advice than any of the other guys here” y/n sighed. 

“Sure I could ask Robin and Nami but they tease me much more than Zoro, he usually only makes fun of you rather than my problems” y/n laughed.

Sanji let out a small sigh of relief and rubbed y/n’s hips gently with his thumb, it gently making it’s way into her shirt to touch her skin.

“And you swear you prefer me over that moss head?”.

“Whose lap am I sitting on right now?”.

Sanji felt a switch inside of him, the two of you were alone. Everyone was asleep, Zoro probably fell asleep the moment y/n walked out of the kitchen. The two of them hardly ever got alone time, the ship was always busy. Whenever the two of them were alone to share an intimate moment it would always be ruined by Luffy, Franky, and Ussop. But this time it was different, the lights were off and everything was quiet. Just y/n and Sanji’s breath silently echoing throughout the small room.

More of Sanji’s fingers slid up y/n’s shirt earning a small gasp from the woman, Sanji’s eyes never leaving hers. “May I my dear?”.

His words were slightly desperate but calmer, this would be the first time the two could share this type of moment so y/n quickly nodded a ‘yes’ in response. Sanji swiftly pulled his hands up to remove her bra only to find she was not wearing one. 

He halted in his tracks and looked up at y/n, “You were with Zoro… braless…?”.

Y/n laughed nervously and looked anywhere but at the chef, “H-he wasn’t looking… if a-anything he's not interested in-”.

Her little excuse was quickly halted by the blonde as he swiftly took off her top and used his tie to wrap her hands together with no easy way to make them come undone. Sanji’s jealous pangs riled up inside him more causing him to lose all sense of treating their first time sweet and perfect. He had always had an image in his mind of his first time with y/n. Candles, flowers a nice comfy bed and take her sweetly, passionately, and gently. But right now he wasn’t thinking straight. He would take her here in Zoro's gross sweaty gym watch tower and he didn’t mind treating her a bit rough.

It’s not as though he had never seen y/n naked before, some times before breakfast there were times to have some quickies, so he had definitely memorized y/n’s perfect delectable body. Sanji took one of her soft breasts and cupped it in his palm, the other hand keeping a firm grip on the tie restraining her arms.

Sanji let out a small laugh and pulled her by the arms closer to his body, “I would love to praise and cherish your body princess…but knowing that another man could have easily done this to you makes me a bit…upset”.

“So I might just have to leave proof that your body is all mine”.

Y/n was a bit shocked at this new Sanji, she knew that he would get jealous from time to time and start yelling at any other man who laid eyes on her, but this was different.

It was actually kind of hot. 

Y/n blushed at his words but didn’t dare to retaliate, “Go ahead… I won’t stop you”.

This sent Sanji soaring, he let go of Y/n’s tied arms and left gentle kisses against her exposed chest and left his mark all over, easily visible marks that wouldn’t leave much room to wonder. His hands explored her body and gently grasped onto her breast. His head leaned forward and he swirled his tongue around her hard nipples, taking in her sweet flavor. Causing her to moan sweet melodies to his ears.

“Fuck… y/n you are intoxicating my love” he mumbled against her breast.

Her face turned a light shade of red before muttering some words that he wouldn’t even hear. Sanji just made muffled sounds before setting her down on the seat and quickly tugging off her shorts and panties to the side, tossing them somewhere in the room. He left trails of kisses down her thighs and left more marks scattered towards her heat. Once he reached the top he eagerly started to eat at her wetness as she held back her moans of pleasure. He let his free hand wander back up to her breasts and fondled them while pinching her nipples. The muffled screams and moans held back by her lips were only making his cock twitch with anticipation.

“I need you, my love…” it sounded like a statement but he looked up at y/n as if he was asking for permission. She giggled and nodded to him.

After licking up all the juices he could, savoring every last drop he began to tug at his belt and pant button as he finished up his tongue's work. He let a few moments pass before finally setting his pants off to the side and stroking himself while prying away from y/n’s slick wetness. He pumped himself a few times before looking at her once again, but the thoughts of jealousy once again plagued his mind. He without warning thrust into her entrance causing her to gasp out from his length.

She always knew that Sanji was rather large, though it didn’t hit her till he filled up her insides entirely. 

“S-Shit S-Sanji” she muttered out between her moans which she couldn't keep back anymore. Each thrust was harder than the last, Sanji had previously teased her with his long slender fingers telling her she would have to ease into his size one day, but he was relentless. Sanji let out low guttural groans, though he wanted to take his time and admire y/n’s beautiful body, he wanted to make sure no one else could even think of touching his woman. He had to make her his.

Sanji could feel his high ready to come, he gripped onto y/n’s hips with one hand and untied the tie from around her wrist. Y/n felt herself clench tightly around his length and once let free she wrapped her arms around Sanji’s neck and pulled him down into a kiss. The two moaned into each other's mouths, making the kiss sloppy but passionate. Sanji came first, his release was hard and went deep inside y/n’s body, he then pressed his fingers against y/n’s clit rubbing it in circles while she screamed his name. 

“S-Sanji! I’m gonna- I’m gonna cum”.

“Do it, my gorgeous girl… cum on my cock”.

His words tipped her over the edge, she squeezed around him once more and felt her body pulsate and shiver from the pleasures. Y/n panted hardly able to catch her own breath. Sanji sighed in contentment, looking down at the mess he made of y/n. He pulled out of her and watched as his cum dripped from her hole with a sly smile on his face. Hickeys and sweat littered her body, and Sanji admired his work. He gently pulled her back over to him and took off his suit jacket and placed it around her shoulders. The two of them cuddled up, y/n looked down at herself embarrassed, and covered her body with his jacket. 

"There's no way I can hide all of this with my clothes...".

“Now I can say you are officially mine~”.

[buryhny]

One Night Stand ; 10

➥ rundown ; as if the unexpected twist of a one-night stand turning out to be your CEO boss wasn't surreal enough, the situation takes a more challenging turn when both of you discover that you're expecting his child.

→ genre ; enemies to lovers | CEO au | pregnancy trope | slowburn

→ Jungkook x y/n → contains smut, fluff and angst → Chapter ten ; wc | 3k

primarily on Wattpad

index ⇢ next chapter

Jungkook's pov

It's quiet during the drive, but my mind is racing with thoughts. The impulsive part of me questions, 'What are you doing, Jungkook? Who is she to you? Why are you helping her? Stop wasting your time.' Meanwhile, my moral guide, reassures me that I'm doing the right thing by helping, supporting, and taking responsibility like a gentleman.

Unsure which voice to follow, I decide to go with my mind since I never trust my heart. As I enter my house, silence greets me, my footsteps echoing in the empty hallways. Bam doesn't greet me, so I assume he's asleep. As I walk to the kitchen for a glass of water, I reflect on the satisfaction of helping but remind myself to be aware of the consequences.

I'm involved in a situation that could be shameful if discovered. I can avoid being implicated, but I'm not sure if Y/n can handle it. I could be selfish if I listened to my impulses, but my rational side steps in, guiding me to follow my mind without involving emotions. 'Do your part, Jeon Jungkook, and good things will come,' I tell myself.

After placing the half-empty glass on the counter, I head upstairs for a shower and bed. My mind refuses to shut down, replaying thoughts about work, investments, Bam's appointments, my checkups, and Y/n. She's probably asleep, overthinking, or relieved, while I stare at the ceiling until exhaustion finally takes over after a couple of hours.

;

The morning sun hasn't risen yet, but I'm awake before my alarm, likely due to Bam's squeaks and whines. "Bammie," I call softly to my Doberman, who looks at me with his puppy eyes. It's yoga time. I believe in shaping my life purposefully. Waking up at 5 a.m., I don't reach for my phone first thing, and I advise others against it.

It's a waste of time. Statistics show 62% of people reach for their phones first thing in the morning, and 44% do so after snoozing their alarms. I'm proud not to be one of them. I put on my yoga pants, roll out the mat, and sit down with Bam on his own mat. He may not do yoga perfectly, but he enjoys mimicking my stretches and trying new positions. It's our routine, and he loves weekends because I'm around more. Our 5 a.m. yoga sessions are calming, especially with the quiet streets waiting for the sunrise.

I start with basic positions, taking deep breaths as I stretch. Bam follows with his dog stretches, making me chuckle at his antics. We continue until the morning sunlight fully brightens the day. "Good start, I'll prepare your breakfast, come Bam." After rolling up the mats and placing them against the yoga room wall, I head to the kitchen. I prepare Bam's meal of fully cooked chicken and beef, adhering to the saying 'breakfast should be eaten like a king.'

Bam's breakfast is a high-protein meal with his favorite meats; he absolutely hates fish and won't eat it, even if I offer it. I respect his preferences and avoid getting fish for him, as his likes and tastes are very important to me.

For myself, I prepare a full English breakfast: two fried eggs, caramelized bacon, toasted bread, and a slice of avocado toast with a cup of tea. This is my Saturday morning ritual, and I never skip it. I usually eat lightly during the week, but weekends start with a hearty meal to fuel the days ahead. As I toss the bacon onto the plate and wait for Bam's beef to boil, I put two slices of multigrain bread into the toaster and grill a slice of baguette for my avocado toast.

Once Bam's protein is fully cooked, I let it cool before cutting it into pieces. I wrap the remaining meat in foil for his dinner, place his food in his bowl, and add a well-done egg on the side. "Bam, sit!" He obediently sits in his spot, and I place the bowl in front of him. He waits for my command, "Come on, eat!" I pat his head and return to the kitchen as my toast is ready. I don't usually sit at the dining table; the emptiness bothers me, so I lean against the counter, watching Bam enjoy his meal while I eat mine.

Living in a mansion has its pros and cons. In hindsight, building such a large house seems wasteful since I barely use most of the rooms. There are about ten large rooms that have never been used. After finishing my toast, I clean the kitchen and take a shower. Weekends aren't free for me.

Running a business that's the second-best advertising agency in Seoul requires constant attention. Every decision and detail must be managed and organized by me, so weekends are never a day off, even though my employees are capable of handling things in my absence.

I look at the suit and shoes in my closet, ironed with no creases. It amuses me that people see me only as a CEO. I'm much more than that; I'm still a 28-year-old man who wears sweatshirts and pants when alone at home. But this side of me is not widely accepted. I put on the suit, button up, and apply my black vanilla-scented perfume, a gift from my ex-girlfriend. Despite disliking everything about her, this perfume is too good to discard.

Bam's caretaker arrives just in time before I leave for work at 8 a.m. as usual. Although workdays are Monday to Friday, my dedicated employees often work on Saturdays to avoid a Monday backlog. They don't ask for extra pay and work for about two hours. To my surprise, Y/n arrives at the same time as I do. She usually doesn't work weekends. Her style has changed; today, she's wearing an oversized sweater and skirt layered with a coat, her style is understandable even though the dress code is required, she's an exception due to her pregnancy.

She gives me a soft smile and a bow as our eyes meet. We take the same elevator, maintaining a polite distance. She looks refreshed this morning. We part ways when she reaches her floor, and the day progresses as usual.

Park Jimin has been quiet for weeks, a welcome change with no complaints or requests from him. It's a positive development. Mr. Jung and Y/n have lunch together, bonding well—a healthy sign. I didn't interact with Y/n today, and she left earlier than I did. As an employee, her work is outstanding. Her design skills have significantly improved, making her stand out among our graphic designers. She has a bright future, and I'm glad she chose to work at Jeon Industries.

Sundays always pass slower. Maybe it's the workaholic in me that can't bear spending a day doing anything besides work, but it is what it is. Everyone must admit that Sundays should be taken off the week. It's nothing but a waste of good 24 hours that could be used better. If I had the choice, I would have open working hours for Sunday too but my employees wouldn't like that and I respect their choices too. Hence, I sit on my couch, staring at the tv playing a rubbish movie that I don't understand one bit.

Bam rests his head on my lap as I run my hand over his short fur, giving him the comfort I neither have nor desire. Touch disgusts me. Cuddles and random kisses are nauseating, like a stain on a brand new white shirt—that's what a hug or kiss feels like.

Sex is different. Sex is just sex. Kissing during sex is merely a way to turn someone on, and touching is part of the act. But kissing and touching out of love? That's horrifying. People need to stop. Watching it gives me anxiety. A cuddle feels like a python wrapping around you, tightening until you can't breathe. I've never cuddled, and I never will.

Bam lifts his head from my lap, his loving eyes meeting mine. "Want something, Bam?" He lets out a soft whine, nudging his nose against my waist and making me laugh. "Bammie, walk time? Alright, stop—s-stop, Bam!" He finally stops when I mention the walk, sitting on the couch and waiting patiently for me to get up.

;

Author's pov

Monday unfolds like any other Monday. Jungkook remains in his office, immersed in the latest deal. You're feeling more at ease today, noting that the spotting has remained minimal, just a few red dots. You're hopeful that it's a sign of things finally slowing down and eventually stopping altogether. "Ms. Lee, I think you left this on my desk on Saturday,"

Beomgyu says, handing you a file you thought you'd misplaced at home. You thank him and quickly check to see if everything is in order. Fortunately, all the papers are intact, and you let out a deep breath of relief. Just then, Rosé rushes towards you, carrying a pile of multi-colored paper files. "Y/n, Hoseok's waiting for you at the cafeteria," she says hastily. "Thanks," you reply, smiling as she hurries off to avoid losing her balance.

Hoseok had plans to visit you this weekend, but you didn't want him to come over since you were still feeling down, making the usually cheerful Hoseok a bit gloomy. You take the elevator and meet him at the cafe. There he is, pouting and playing with his sugar cookie decorated with a little duck. You walk over to him, trying to suppress a smile. "Hi, Hoba—" "You canceled our plans? That's not fair. You didn't even dance with me at the business party last week."

Hoseok is teasing you, and you can't help but play along because he's so endearing. "I'm sorry, Hoba, how can I make it up to you?" you ask, sitting beside him. He sighs dramatically before pulling out a beautifully decorated cookie with cheesecake sugar icing. "Nothing, just have this. I made it." Your eyes widen in surprise. You knew Hoseok could bake, but seeing this adorable creation amazes you. "You made this for me? You drew this?!!"

you exclaim, examining the detailed icing. "Of course, it's my secret talent," he whispers, giggling and flashing his lovely smile. "Try it, tell me how it tastes," he urges, eyes sparkling with anticipation. You don't want to ruin the little masterpiece, but you can't resist his pleading.

"Let me take a picture first." You pull out your phone, snap a photo, and then take a bite. The cookie is soft, decadent, and filled with delicious strawberry jam. You close your eyes, savoring the taste, a smile spreading across your face. "How is it?" Hoseok whispers, anxious to know if his efforts have paid off. "Tell me!!!" "Hobi, this is the best thing I've eaten in months!" you declare, and Hoseok claps his hands in delight. Seeing your happiness fills him with satisfaction. "Give me that bag—I'm taking it home!!!!"

Packing up your things, you realize the office is once again empty, leaving only you and your CEO behind. After a dull weekend, today had gone surprisingly well. Work and lunch were great, and you felt a sense of contentment. Jungkook stands in your doorway, watching you pack up with a gentle smile. This time feels different; he's not just waiting for you to leave but seems to be genuinely enjoying the moment. "I'm done, Mr. Je—" you start,

but then pause as a strange sensation between your legs makes you frown. Jungkook notices your change in expression and mirrors your concern. "Y/n? Is everything fine?" he asks. "Yeah, I think so," you reply, but as you take another step, the sensation grows more alarming. "I think I need to use the washroom," you mumble, your words barely coherent. Jungkook, confused, watches as you drop your bag and rush towards the corridor.

He sets his bag down and follows you, stopping just outside the restroom door. You lean against the cabinet, not bothering to enter a stall. There's no one else around, and you know Jungkook won't intrude without permission. Taking a deep breath, you try to push away the negative thoughts flooding your mind.

You remove your coat, untuck your shirt, and pull your skirt down just enough to see. With closed eyes, you whisper to yourself, "Whatever it is, just not the same color. Anything but that." When you open your eyes, you see a darker splash of blood. Your chest tightens, and you struggle to breathe.

Your mind goes blank, filled only with anxiety. You grip the cabinet so tightly your knuckles turn white. "I'm bleeding, shit," you finally mutter. Everything seems to turn black, the walls closing in on you. You sink to your knees, curling up against the wall, tears streaming down your face. Jungkook hears your cries and rushes in. Seeing you on the floor, weeping and holding your visibly showing stomach, he understands the gravity of the situation. "Y/n—"

"I'm bleeding, Jungkook, please," you whisper. Though your voice is faint, he catches the urgency in it. He kneels beside you, noticing your struggle to breathe and realizing you're having an anxiety attack. He places his hands on your shoulders, feeling the tension. "Hey, look at me, Y/n! I want you to close your eyes and try to breathe," he urges.

You push him away, feeling suffocated and unable to catch your breath. "Y/n, look at me!" he yells, his eyes filled with concern. "You're alright, the baby is alright. Take a deep breath—"

"I can't—" you gasp. "Yes, you can. If you want the baby to be fine, you need to take a breath. Come on!" he insists. Crying, you follow his instructions, trying to calm down for the sake of the little one inside you. Slowly, you manage to steady your breathing. "We need to get you to the doctor. I'll take you," Jungkook says, his voice firm but gentle.

The drive to the hospital was a blur of sniffles, sobs, and tears. Jungkook didn't ask any questions; he knew you couldn't answer. You could barely breathe, let alone speak. He drove as fast as he could, hoping Dr. So Hee would still be available despite it being 7 PM. "Dr. So Hee? It's an emergency—" Jungkook began as soon as you entered the building, but the receptionist cut him off. "Sorry, sir, she's not accepting any appointments now."

"Inform her that Ms. Lee Y/n is the patient—" "Sir, it's not possible—" "God damn—" "Y/n?" Dr. So Hee appeared behind the two of you, bag in hand, ready to leave. The moment you met her eyes, you broke down. She saw the distress and immediately understood. "I'll take them. Ms. Lee, come with me." You followed Dr. So Hee, leaving Jungkook to handle the payment. Once inside her office, you took a seat, your body trembling. "What's the matter, Y/n?"

"Dr., I'm bleeding—I have no idea what happened. I was fine over the weekend, but now I'm bleeding," you said, voice shaky. "Is it spotting?" "No, it's more than that," you replied, just as Jungkook knocked and poked his head in. "May I come in?" he asked. Dr. So Hee nodded, allowing him to enter and sit beside you. "Is it more like a puddle or like a period?"

Dr. So Hee asked. "A puddle," you said, feeling a wave of anxiety wash over you. Your crying had stopped, but you kept sniffing and fidgeting.

Dr. So Hee sighed. "I can't do an examination right now, but I have a few questions. May I ask them?" You nodded. "do you have hormonal imbalance? have you dealt with it during your teens? or maybe you've smoked or are a heavy drinker?" You met her eyes, hesitant to respond with Jungkook beside you. "I was a heavy drinker and smoker for about three years. I stopped smoking, but I occasionally drink. and yes, i've dealt with hormonal imbalance, still do."

"since you were unaware of your pregnancy, did you consume alcohol?" You closed your eyes, feeling ashamed. "I did drink a few times before I knew I was pregnant." Dr. So Hee nodded while Jungkook maintained a poker face, though clearly surprised.

"I need you to visit me tomorrow at 10:30 AM. I will do a full examination. For now, don't take any pills, drink plenty of water, and stay with a parent or friend. You shouldn't be alone tonight considering your panicking state."

You nodded, and Jungkook did too. "Meet me tomorrow, Y/n, and please take care." Walking back to Jungkook's car, you stood in front of it, breathing in the open air. Jungkook hesitated but finally asked, "Are you okay?" Looking down, you felt the tears welling up again. "You think I'll be okay?" He licked his lips, unsure of what to say. "You've got someone at home, right?" When you didn't respond, he frowned. "Wait, you live alone?"

Avoiding his gaze, you felt your temper rising. "I'll do what I want." He gasped, realizing the implications. "Does your mom know about this?" Closing your eyes, you bit your inner cheek. Jungkook stepped closer, his concern turning to frustration. "What do you think you're doing with your mom knowing nothing? Do you have any idea about the consequen—"

"I'm a big girl, Jungkook. I know exactly what I'm doing, and none of it matters to you!" you snapped, meeting his eyes with a furious glare. "Does anyone know about this? Or is it just me?" "Jungkook, stop getting into my business. You helped me, thank you. That's it. I didn't ask for help, so don't involve yourself in this mess," you said, stepping closer,

the safe distance between you almost gone. "I've been in this mess since day one. Y/n, you're not doing the right thing by keeping things to yourself. You need to be with someone tonight—" "I can manage on my own!" you shouted, furious at his condescending tone. The distance between you vanished, your faces inches apart.

"You can't!" "Yes, I can!"

"That's it. You're coming with me!"

"Drink up," he muttered, holding a glass of water in front of you to help prevent further choking. Jungkook had anticipated this reaction and regretted not telling you at a more suitable time, instead of during dinner when you were devouring pizza as if you hadn't eaten in days. Once you calmed down, you glared at him, and he gulped, leaving you even more confused.

"Is this a prank?" you asked, and he rolled his eyes. "When have I ever pranked you?" "So, you're telling me I'm going with you on a business trip to France?" Your voice rose sharply in pitch and volume. Jungkook wasn't entirely confident about this decision. He had planned for you to stay home, believing nothing could go wrong.

But everything could go wrong, especially when you least expect it. You raised an eyebrow, seeking an explanation, and he nodded, prompting you to sigh. "But why?" The speed of your speech irked him, though he didn't want to show it and risk another argument. He was exhausted and needed sleep. Jungkook slurped his noodles, trying to ease the tension, but his actions only fueled your anger.

"Jungkook, I asked you, why?" "Because I can't leave you alone." "Why not?" Your rapid-fire questions left him struggling to think clearly. He needed time to form his sentences to avoid mistakes, but you weren't giving him any.

"I don't think it's safe to leave you here alone. No one around knows about your condition, and you have strict meal times. I know you'd skip meals." He spoke in one breath, and you scowled at him. "I'm trying to consider your concerns. It's hard for me to process this."

"that's up to me and It's hard for me too, alright?" Your words came out faster, laced with sarcasm, making communication even more difficult since neither of you managed your anger well. "Then take me home. It won't be hard for you anymore."

You almost stood up, but he grabbed your wrist, stopping you. Exhaling, he closed his eyes and shook his head, signaling you not to do this because he knew how hungry you were. "What?" you asked in frustration.

"Eat up." His tone was firm and authoritative. After a moment, you sat back down. His persistence in caring for you was pretty impressive, and even though it was hard to accept, you appreciated that he took responsibility for his actions. Not many men do, especially regarding pregnancy.

You sat back and stared at the now-cold pizza. He looked at it too, then at you from the corner of his eye. "Think it over. I'm not forcing you. Just let me know before Thursday." You nodded, took a bite of the pizza, and chewed thoughtfully. Jungkook felt guilty for disrupting your meal and wished he had waited until morning. 'I'm so stupid,' he thought, picking at his food before finishing it, having starved himself all day.

When he was done, he threw away the trash and drank a glass of water. He saw you crushing the pizza box after licking your fingers. 'This is unhealthy,' he thought, knowing you should have more nutritious meals. But he couldn't help but notice how much weight you had lost in the past two months.

He remembered how vibrant and cheerful you looked when he first met you—damn stress. After washing your hands, you wiped your lips and headed upstairs. "Hey, don't sleep yet. You need to take your medicines."

You nodded, climbing the stairs with Bam following, bringing a smile to your face. Jungkook felt everything was happening too fast, from learning about the pregnancy to you staying at his place. He wasn't comfortable with the sudden changes, and both of you needed time to adjust—a long time.

You felt awkward walking around, always aware that this was Jungkook's place—your boss's place. He wasn't used to having a woman in his home, so he suggested this idea, though he hadn't thought it through. On the bright side, you weren't difficult to handle. Despite frequent arguments, you were content in your own quiet world.

He went to his bedroom, checked the time, and set a reminder to give you your medicine in an hour. He took his laptop from his bag and began replying to pending emails.

"Bam, funny how we got along so well. It hasn't even been 4 days and we're friends!" you cupped his face, his eyes flapping as you held them and talked to him while he looked at your eyes with his extremely adorable pair. "Should I go with him? I don't know, isn't it weird?" you asked the dog who tilted his head, like he understands. He does this action whenever Jungkook talks to him too.

"I may be scared to stay home alone too, I won't disagree." trailing your words with a pout on your face, your eyes turned to the sound of your notifications as the phone blinked. Grabbing it you look at who texted you only to see Kayla's 56th message. You're not texting her because it's getting tougher to be in contact with her. She asks you out for parties, dinners and other events that you're not interested in and you can't really engage in that sort of activity.

It's unsafe. You don't have the courage to explain everything to her, the whole damn story. Kayla is a good friend but she's not a very close friend, you are doubtful of her reactions. Bam leaves you alone in your thought bubble, zoned out and thinking about the other people in your life. Another text popped out and you noticed that this time it was from Hoseok, the smile on your face creeped up.

[ from Hoseok ] What's up? :0

[ Y/ n ] Missing me?

[ From Hoseok ] Yes :(

[ y/n ] Oh no, bake a sugar cookie!!

Oh those sugar cookies were heaven, you think and almost salivate at the thought of them. and remembering the cutest drawings Hobi drew for you, he's the sweetest person you've ever met.

[ From Hoseok ] Who's gonna eat them? you're not here :(

[ y/n ] eat them for me you're a baby Mr Jung, I must show these texts to Mr Jeon.

[ From Hoseok ] Hey, I'm not!

[ y/n ] sure thing

[ From Hoseok ] but really, work was so dull without you

[ y/n ] I'll be back soon, okay?

[ From Hoseok ] How soon?

How soon? How am I gonna answer that question? you ask yourself, the smile on your face dropping as you leave him on seen for a few minutes to think about how you should respond to his question.

Hoseok lays on his couch, waiting in your chat until you reply to him, the pout on his face getting heavy with the minutes that pass by.

He sits upright on his sofa, staring at the screen while the television screen plays the random show of grey's anatomy that Hoseok hasn't watched ever in his life.

[ Y/n ] idkkk, soon?

your reply does not satisfy Hoseok enough, laying back on his couch he heaves a sigh as he replies to you with a :) and turns off his phone, he misses his friend a little too much. Hoseok looks at the telly and chuckles, he doesn't realise that his friend does mean a lot to him.

You place your phone on the coffee table beside you, getting on your feet and walking towards the glass door that opens to the balcony. The cold wind pulls you out, placing your hands on the railing as you look out at the clear dark blue sky, the moon having its usual soft glow but never fails to amaze you.

you're not a moon person, you're more of a sun girl, especially the sun at the beach and it's funny how you haven't been to a shore in a long time, the last time you remember was.. with your ex. you haven't been able to meet the coast the same way, it's where your ex broke up with you claiming that he's suddenly got commitment issues, so abruptly after dating you for 7 months then officially being in a relationship with you for over 3 months.

He could have at least come up with a better excuse to break up with you—maybe explain what triggered his so-called "commitment issues." But no, he chose your favorite spot in the world to drop such heartbreaking news. What a coward. You looked up at the moon, its soft glow surrounded by twinkling stars,

and all you could think about was how much you missed your mom. Her face appeared in your mind—round, pink, and full of warmth, with those dimples at the corners of her mouth that you always loved to poke with your finger. The moon reminded you so much of her face that it brought a small giggle to your lips.

There were two outdoor couches set up perfectly for stargazing, so you decided to take a seat. Stargazing wasn't something you did often, but tonight, the setting felt serene. The gentle breeze, the stillness, the way the sky glittered with golden stars blinking occasionally—it all felt so peaceful, you couldn't resist taking it in. You placed your hands on your stomach, and for the first time, you truly felt the bump beneath your palms.

It's getting more prominent now and that excites you a bit, thinking about the future. Rubbing over your shirt, you continue to stare longer as you curl up, enjoying the softness of the sofa and the coldness of the surrounding. Your apartment had no view, no balcony and no comfy chairs like the ones Jungkook owns. The longer you look at the sky, the heavier your eyelids become. It's so peaceful out here, you think.

Peace was something you hadn't felt in a long time. Since finding out about the pregnancy, everything seemed to crumble around you, so this moment felt so good, so soothing. Just as your eyes began to drift shut, a few knocks on the glass door startled you, making you flinch. You turned to see where the sound came from and spotted Jungkook standing there, curiosity etched on his face as he took in your surprised expression.

"Your pills?" he asked, his voice soft but clear. You nodded, still rubbing your eyes to wake yourself up fully, you walk inside the bedroom, locking the door. Facing him, he picks up the glass and meds that he left on the bedside table. You sit on the edge of the bed and he hands you each pills so you gulp it down with room temperature water.

It feels weird to have him babysit you like this, you want to tell him that he doesn't have to do all this but you refrain from saying so because you know that it's gonna bring up another argument, which you're not ready for. "Thank you."

you say softly once you've swallowed the 5 whole capsules, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, handing over the glass back to him. Jungkook tears his eyes from yours and brings them to your collarbones, he won't admit it but when you gulped down every sip of the water, his mind only reminded him of the way you gave head.

He's unsure why he thinks of that night, it's the horniness in him. 'Maybe I should visit the club someday,' he tells himself as he nods his head and walks out of your bedroom. You do your skincare and then slip inside the sheets, the softness of the covers brings a warm smile on your face, letting you into slumber after a few minutes

-

Morning arrives quicker than you expected. Jungkook is already up, buttoning his inner waistcoat as he heads downstairs. The aroma of breakfast fills the air, prepared by Maya. He spots you sitting on the lobby couch, looking refreshed in a sweatshirt and checkered pants, focused on your laptop with Bam curled up beside you.

He directly walks into the kitchen, taking out the morning pills that you've got taken as prescribed. Placing them on the coffee table, you look up at him and meet his eyes, looking grumpy as always in the mornings. "Take them after you have your breakfast." He turns to leave but you immediately stop him. "Jungkook-"

you see him facing you with a blank look on his face, you walk closer to him, looking around as you check on his staff, not wanting them to hear you when you ask him the next few words. He raises his eyebrow, wanting to know why exactly you stopped him from leaving the house. Licking your lips, not very sure how to say it without sounding stupid, but you've given it a thought and it's a valid contemplation.

"Wouldn't your workers find it weird if you book two tickets?" This question makes him tilt his head, not exactly understanding what you're asking him, you heave a sigh and look at the ground then around checking for the staff. "The business trip?" you whisper, he then realises what you meant and pushes his head back with a chuckle.

Slipping his hands inside his pockets, he speaks. "Don't worry about that, I have my ways." he lets you know, walking out of the house, leaving you confused. you had more questions to ask him, he just left, not giving you a few seconds to ask him more. Rolling your eyes, you sat back down and began to start working from home, online. It's no different from working in the office, just the change of place and there's no people around here. So it's rather dull and boring, especially without Hoseok and Rosè around.

Maybe even Park Jimin, his taunts and conceited words were maddening yet it was some quality drama, now here you are alone just the way it always was. Except it's Jungkook's place and it just feels more peaceful and somehow a new place to be in, so it keeps you going. Occasionally taking a break to rub and pet Bam, it helps you to be focused.

While you work on your project, Bam either sleeps beside you or has his head on your lap. You both have bonded well, it feels nice and you don't feel very lonely too, you've not only got your baby but the pup too so you're happy. More than happy.

-

Jungkook officially announced that you're working from home due to personal reasons, and that you won't be back to office for months, he didn't specify how many months because he didn't think it was important for anyone to know, besides he himself isn't aware of it, it's pregnancy so..

he's a bit clueless with the months. Hoseok, Rosè and Jimin were of course left speechless. Firstly, Hoseok was aware of this, you told him but he assumed it could be some silly joke as you like to pull his leg a bit but he didn't expect it to be official, coming from Mr Jeon's mouth.

Jimin was disappointed, he isn't gonna have anyone for the next few months to tease and taunt, he enjoyed doing it all especially with your reactions, it made him want to continue more. "Did she inform you, like the reason?" Rosè questioned Hoseok as the two of them walked back to their work space. He shaked his head, letting her know that he wasn't told about it all, not even the period of online working.

"She didn't say much, just that she wouldn't be back anytime soon. It seemed like she wasn't sure herself," he muttered to the woman beside him, who nodded in understanding. Rosé wasn't particularly close to you—you were more colleagues than friends—so she didn't mind too much. But she could clearly see the impact of the news on Hoseok's face.

It drained his bright, happy aura more than it did yesterday. Looks like she's got some very important business to handle, anyway wanna have lunch with me later?" Rosè invited him, looking for any approval on his face but he declined her offer. "Thanks Rosè, I'm skipping lunch today." She hummed as a response to his words and walked away with a pat on his shoulder, her black heels clicking on the floor which got Jimin's attention. "I could join you for lunch."

The man spoke, placing his hands inside his linen black work pants as he cocks his eyebrow, waiting for her reply. Rosè looked at his eyes, those eyes that had a haughty gaze a few days back were slightly soft, even though his straight posture and smug smile hasn't altered one bit. Rosè noticed the change in his tone even so, it wasn't patronising as it was before, he had a sense of genuineness. She heaved a breath and rolled her eyes, walking past him while saying the words, "Sure thing, Park."

This left him, licking his bottom lip, seconds later biting into it to stop himself from smiling his honest grin, he's got to put up his guard, can't possibly break down his smug character for a woman. That too, an intimidating woman like Rosè. He walked back to his workspace, to get done with his work. Pushing away the interaction he just had from his mind so he can concentrate and get this done fast.

-

"Mr Jeon, you asked for me?" Baekhyun, the executive assistant walks inside the cabin after Jeon phoned him to be up at his office. Jungkook paused his typing and looked up at the man who stood in front of him with his hands tied to the back, bowing in respect. "I need you to confirm my attendance for Mr Lim's business trip." "May I begin with the process, Mr Jeon?"

"Sure, two business seat tickets for both departure and arrival, with full board services and arrangements for the best hotel for two executive suites."Baekhyun looked uncertain, his forehead creased and he was waiting for his boss to say that he's mistaken and that he just wants one. Jungkook noticed that the man hadn't moved still so he looked up to see his face,

raising his eyebrow in gesture to ask why he's still here. "Mr Jeon, are you sure about two flight tickets and two suites?" "Of course, is there a problem, Mr Byung?" "N-no Mr Jeon. I will make the arrangements." He bowed and left the next instance, leaving Jungkook to think a bit about it. He's never travelled with a plus one, he travels alone and a few of his important staff individuals. This time he chooses to not take them except his personal assistant, Min Sana who was replaced by his previous secretary Mina.

His staff usually comes by economy class to manage travel member expenses and it's been this process for years now. But it leaves him questioning how effortlessly he spoke about booking for two, obviously making his staff to assume.

Yet he chooses to push it away, claiming that they don't have any right to question him or doubt his decisions. While checking on his investments, he receives a text message from whom he least expected.

[ From unknown ] kook, yoongi here. changed my phone number. Where do you stay now?

Jungkook immediately grabbed his phone and stared at the name that the text mentioned. "Yoongi?" whispering to himself, he was about to click on the notification so it opens up to the chat but he stops himself. Placing back the phone on his office desk and taking the time to think.

"Why would he text me now? After almost 2 years?" he asks himself but has no answer to any of his questions unless the man himself answers. Jungkook refrained from replying to his text, and decided to let the man wait just the way he made Jungkook wait for months. He then looked back at his papers,

even though his mind was a bit fuzzy after that unforeseen text message he still continues to work with his mental gears not fully in the right pace.

Just when he's signing for the agreements, his screen flickers again. He can feel himself getting huffy as he tries to ignore the notification he received, assuming it's the 30 year old man again, until he takes a glance at the name. his heart hopes it's a message from unknown but his mind says to be it from someone else and it was another person. It was you.

[ From Ms Lee ] Jungkook? I need your help Is this salt or sugar? <picture attached*>

Jungkook looks at the picture you've sent him and widens his eyes in disbelief. The longer he looks, the more baffled his face looks as he can't stop thinking how stupid you are.

[ From Jungkook ] Just taste it. Are you stupid?

[ y/n ] I'm not stupid! None of the spices are named and they look the same. It's much more stupid

Jungkook sniggers at your texts, he can't believe that you're thinking so hard about salt and sugar. He doesn't want you to ask him about these simple items, he wants you to consider the place as your home too for the moment and the next few months. You're being considerate and he's thankful that you are but he can't stop smiling at how stupid it still seems to be.

[ From Jungkook ] Why do you want it?

[ y/n ] uh... well can I use the stuff from the kitchen

[ From Jungkook ] sure

You looked at his text, 'Sure.' Appears and then you pull out the rest of the items you needed. You were in desperate need of trying caramelised bananas. The youtube short that you watched a few minutes ago, triggered your craving system and so you soon hopped off your couch to get downstairs to make the easy dessert.

However, when you walked inside his jet black kitchen that welcomed you with the hint of gold. Looking around for a while, the bananas were kept right outside in the fruit basket along with other fruits like guava, passion fruits and melon. You grabbed a bunch of yellow, ripe bananas and laid them on the counter. "Where's the sugar?" you asked yourself and opened a few doors of the cabinet, finding for the sweeteners.

The top door opened to a few of the same ceramic containers that had two seasonings, the both of them were white and it wasn't named as sugar or salt. Being a little dumb, instead of taking a bite to taste it you asked Jungkook about it. You're unsure why you were being clumsy and couldn't add more pressure to your dying brain. His replies made you roll your eyes a thousand times that you're sure, by the time you leave his place, your eyes would be stuck up in the sockets.

The process of cooking the dessert began then as you took out a small sized pan that you found inside a drawer, heating it you then melted some butter over medium heat and then added sugar. A sprinkle of cinnamon while the sugar melts with the warm butter, you slice the banana and add them into the pan, frying each side until it turns golden brown.

"You get that smell, Bam? mmm." you moaned as the aroma of the burned sugar tingles under your nose, making you more excited to try it out. Your cravings are building up, slowly, gradually and it makes you so happy that you're eating and finally acting pregnant, in a joyful way rather than sobbing about it. Placing them into a small bowl, you poke a fork into it and dump the just caramelised slices into your mouth. They were warm but you couldn't wait any longer.

Besides, it tastes the best when it's just cooked. Once done devouring it, you cleaned the pan and dishes then plopped yourself into the couch. The time showed 7;45 which means Jungkook is probably on his way home. You decided to clear the rest of your stuff in his room and arrange it all into the closet and make that room more of you, it's lovely that he gave you the most feminine room of all and let you make any changes to make you feel belonged and comfortable.

Since you arrived a few days back, you didn't feel like arranging the stuff, unsure of the whole plan but now that you've settled enough, you were super excited to add your touch in that room. Bam followed you into the room and sat on the couch while you pulled out your suitcases, you tied your shirt above your bump like it was a crop top before you began with the organising. you've been choosing your clothings from the duffel bag these few days so you took them all out and placed them inside the cream closet.

Shirts on one side, pants on one, sleepwear on another and lingerie in the drawers. "Perfect!" you whisper to yourself in happiness that it looks so organised and beautiful in the empty shelves. You also brought along a few novels and plushies that you placed on the little floating shelves while the plushies remained on the bed. The makeup pouches sat on the vanity along with the few perfumes that you own and that was all about it. You took a little twirl and admired how pleasant and adorable the room looks now.

How much you loved the colours chosen for it, the blush pink, cream and grey just combined so well, painted gorgeously and now that you've added your belongings and changed the layout of the furniture, the room looks so much like you now and even better than it ever was. Wiping off the sweat beads of your forehead you exhaled and straightened your posture. "Bam, have I done a good job?" "Of course."

you frowned as you looked at Bam seated on the couch, tilting his head. 'Bam?' you said inside your mind and then you turned around and flinched at the sight of Jungkook. "Oh shit-" placing your hand on your chest, you moved a few steps back at his sudden appearance at your doorstep.

Chuckling, you took a few breaths and looked around the room to admire it for the 20th time. Jungkook looked at you, more specifically the little bump that's on display that you totally forgot was naked with your shirt being a crop top. He frowned as he continued to stare at it, gulping at the sight of it.

Did he really do that? he thinks but his thoughts were shuffled when you looked at him, you looked down to see what he's looking at and when you realised you immediately pulled out your shirt from under your breasts.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry." whispering under your breath, Jungkook rapidly scanned the area, embarrassed at where his eyes were at. "No shit- I'm sorry." "yeah you should be, creep-" his eyebrows furrowed at word creep yet he didn't say an extra word, knowing that he was indeed being a creep so he stepped out of your room completely. "I'll be making dinner, care to join?"

"No." he rolled his eyes, his tongue clicking as he nodded his head. "Why did I even ask?" he tells himself and removes his coat, entering his bedroom to get a shower. you covered your face with your hands and groaned. "That was so awkward, Bam!"

The dog barked and ran away to his owner, leaving you all by yourself. "It's new to him too I guess." you murmured to yourself and waited until you heard his footsteps so you could help him with the cooking, you obviously joked about not joining him a while ago.

-

Jungkook walked downstairs, first putting Bam's dinner then taking out the utensils to prepare kimchi soup. It was easy and healthy. He picked up some fresh kimchi from a restaurant so he could get on with it. He loved cooking, it was his favourite activity of his day. Ever since he moved to seoul when he was 19, he lived alone in a small dorm that he shared with a few of his so called friends at that time.

He learnt different skills from each friend, one was cooking. It grew inside him and he still doesn't plan to get rid of it by having a chef at home. Jungkook glanced at the stairs when he heard footsteps. You walked into the kitchen leaning against the cabinet with crossed arms, now freshened up and standing in front of him in pink and black checkered pyjamas.

"Need some help?" he smirked and shaked his head, gesturing no but you weren't gonna just stand there and look at him while he cooks dinner for you. You've got a slightly bigger heart. "So, what's cooking?" "Soup, kimchi soup." Aw man you are not a huge fan of kimchi, you were craving for some savory crepes.

You pout, very evidently, you want him to know that you're not happy with the choice of dinner. He takes a glimpse of you and the way your already pouty, bottom heavy lips look when they are pouted, it only makes him want to- "what? Doesn't sound good?" he questioned you which you answered with a meh. "Let me lend a hand." "I can manage, Y/n. Too many cooks ruin the soup." "Heyy?" you placed your hand on your waist, offended by what he just said.

how badly he wants to pinch your cheeks! "Take a seat at the dining table, dinner will be ready in a few minutes." "Fine, I'll wash the dishes after. you can't say no, I'm willing to do it." He faced you, looking at your eyes with a glare. Jungkook didn't want you to help him, he's fine. you squint your eyes back at him and he gives up and leaves a sigh. "Alright."

you sneaked your way back to the dining table, he didn't notice the slippers you were wearing until he looked down to hear the sound of it. Then he noticed your feet inside two teddy bears. "What the fuck are those?"

he blurted out accidentally as he began to laugh like a mad man. You've never seen him laugh so hard, so hard that his eyes almost disappeared, wrinkles surrounded the sides of his eyes and his nose scrunched with his bunny smile on display. The sound of his laughs, echoes in the empty house and rang inside your ears but leaving all that, you were very deeply insulted by his belly laugh.

"Never seen sleepwear slippers in your life before, Mr Jeon? Too bad-" "Of course, I have, but is the salary I reward you not enough? Why have you murdered two bears under your feet?" He almost dropped the soup out of the pot while he laughed at your face, this angered you so you took off the damn slipper to show him that it's an actual footwear not two plushies. Walking back to him with one foot in the sleepwear and the other in your hand, you put it up on his face.

"Look! It's a slip on! It's not a plushy." He gets a grip on himself and stops laughing, the look on your face makes it more difficult for him to stop yet he does, he can't be cackling like a mad man anymore. "It's absolutely hilarious!" "Yeah, very funny. I'll surely laugh tomorrow Mr Jeon!" you throw it back on the floor and slip your foot inside, stomping your way to sit back down. He shakes his head, biting his lips to stop himself from acting like this.

Jungkook poured the soup into a bowl and placed it on the dining table, with two soup bowls, chopsticks and a soup spoon. He poured the soup for you, making sure you get enough of the kimchi, he wants you to have full healthy meals. You didn't stop giving him those looks and he ignored them as he should, the two of you slurping and munching on the kimchi filled the air. It tasted heavenly, the crepe cravings totally washed out of your mind and you were beginning to enjoy and devour the entire bowl of warm liquid.

"What did you make earlier today? There was a toasty smell when I entered." As soon as he stepped inside he was hit with an aroma of something sweet and nutty and was curious to what you prepared, he was sure that it was something sweet since you texted him about it but you left no trail of evidence of what you cooked and the curiosity was eating him. "Just caramelised bananas."

'Oh man that sounds so good.' He thinks to himself but nods to your answer, showing no special interest but his mind surely craves for it now that he knows. "Must've been salty."

you tilted your head and looked at his blank face, your eyebrows furrowed and you bit your insides. 'What does he think I am? 5?' you think to yourself. "Of course I used salt, it tasted very much like the ocean!" Muttering those words you loudly slurped on the soup, Jungkook enjoys doing this to you, he smiles and covers it up by poking the fermented cabbage into his mouth. You both spent the rest of the time having a quiet dinner, it was peaceful until it was time to do the dishes.

"Give me your bowl." "I'll wash them on my own, clean yours." "Jungkook, give them to me, I told you I'm doing the dishes." "So I'm letting you do it, go ahead." "Give me your damn bowl." Bam looked at Jungkook then at you and vice versa, quarrelling over dishes like 10 year olds, Bam has never witnessed such scenes before, this is the most sounds he's ever heard since birth. "Why are you acting like a child, Jungkook?"

"Me? I'm the child? you're the child here!" There he stands tall in front of you, holding his empty bowl above his head while you try your best to reach it. "Jungkook!" "y/n!" your face showed signs of anger, frustration and he wasn't any less. you scowled at him and then sulked. you just wanna help. he cooked dinner twice, he lets you stay at his place and takes good care of you. you wanna show your gratitude too, you can't do it by words but you can by your actions and it starts here. helping him with the dishes.

"please." Jungkook has never seen the 'puppy eyes' before, definitely not yours. you looked at him with your big amber eyes that shows innocence, he's never seen this side of you and it honestly scares him. that pout on your face as you whispered the please, did something to him. "I'm not falling for your stupid face!" he delicately presses you to the side to make way to wash his dish. you frowned telling yourself that you're never gonna help this man again, he can do his shit by himself, you don't have to be nice to him.

waddling your way towards the stairs he stops you so you turn to face him. "What now?" He shows the pills that lay on his palm with a glass of water in his hand, you took it from him and thanked him in a whisper before making your way back to the bedroom. "Pack your stuff, we're leaving for France tomorrow night." you hear him as he spoke loudly, sighing you placed the pills on the night stand and took out the suitcases that you stored away this evening.

just for two days, that's not a lot of clothes. muttering to yourself you pulled out 2 lounge sets that were just easy to wear plus they're comfortable and along with that a floral split thigh a-line dress that looked pretty for a dinner or whatever that requires you to dress a bit girly. shirts and sweatpants and done.

Honestly, if this was to happen a few months back you'll be screaming and crying over what you've got to pick or even buy clothes for but now you've got 0 intention to dress up, just being comfortable is all that matters. pregnancy is definitely changing a lot within you, it's quite evident. taking a seat on the bed, you switched off the chandelier and turned on the bed lamp beside you, throwing the pills into your mouth and washing them down with water then you leaned on the velvet upholstered blush pink bedhead.

playing with your fingers while you give everything a final thought. accompanying Jungkook to a business trip sounds invading, he's got his things to do and manage while you're tagging around him just cause you're pregnant? he's taking his responsibilities a bit too seriously at this point, he could drop you off at your place for the two days, it's not a big deal. Is it even the right thing to do? you ask yourself,

contemplating if the man is making the right decisions. Nothing feels normal, everything happens fast without a warning that makes you question everything. and besides all that, the man is annoying as hell. it's not like you're gonna share a room with him or any sort of that yet it feels weirdly wrong. no. totally wrong.

;

spoiler.

"what the fuck, Jung kook? I can't fucking breathe!" you gasp for air, struggling to get more breath while you're trapped in your seat and your chest continues to tighten. "Hey, calm down-"

"I can't!" "you're just panicking!!" "Jung kook please-"

next chapter ⇢

[dorabellingham]

Prom — pt.2

warning: it's too long, it has two povs and it's kind of sad

characters: jude x fem!reader

summary: when after the disastrous prom and a broken heart you want to stay away from him or when after kissing the wrong girl he finally realizes who has his heart

may contain spelling and translation errors!

Y/n pov's.

The morning sun was streaming through the cracks in your bedroom window, but you didn't feel the warm warmth that usually cheered you up. Your head was heavy, and your eyes were still burning from the tears from the night before. The scene from the dance continued to haunt you: Amelia kissing Jude, and he didn't pull away immediately. The memory was like a knife stuck in your chest.

You didn't feel like getting up. Wrapped in a blanket, you just wanted to disappear for a while, but the sound of your brother's excited voice echoed in the hallway.

—Y/n! Why are you locked in there? —Keegan shouted from outside. —Aren't you going to school? What happened at the prom? I want details!

You sighed deeply, your heart beating fast. You knew you wouldn't be able to hide this from your mother, much less from the curious and stubborn Keegan. You decided you had to tell him.

After gathering your courage, you went down to the kitchen, where your mother was preparing breakfast. The smell of toast and coffee was comforting, but not enough to ease your anxiety.

—Good morning, darling. How was the night? —Your mom asked with a smile, but when she looked at her daughter’s haggard face, her expression changed to concern. —Darling?

—Mum… —You began, your voice weak. —Can I skip school today? Please?

The middle-aged woman put down the cup she was holding and approached her daughter, touching her face gently.

—What happened?

You bit your lip, feeling the tears threatening to fall again.

—It was horrible, mum. Jude… —You stopped, swallowing hard. —He… he kissed someone else.

Your mother was silent for a moment, processing the words.

—He kissed someone else? But… Jude is your best friend!

—Not only that —You corrected, wiping away your tears. —I like him, mum. I have for a long time. And yesterday... he was with Amelie, dancing with her. And then she kissed him. He didn't pull away right away. I saw everything.

Your mother pulled you into a tight hug, letting you vent.

—You don't have to go to school today, Y/n. Stay here. We'll deal with this together.

While your mother comforted you, Keegan appeared in the doorway, his arms crossed and his gaze inquisitive.

—Wait a minute. Bellingham kissed someone else? —His eyes widened, his mouth opening in disbelief. —That traitor! I knew he couldn't be trusted!

—Keegan, this isn't the time for this!

Your mother scolded, but the boy couldn't help himself.

—Sis, do you want me to punch him? Because I will! I can't believe he did this to you.

You let out a weak laugh, despite the pain.

—No, Keegan. Just… just forget.

—Forget? —He snorted. —How can I forget? He practically lives here. And now he does this?

While you were talking to your mother and brother, your phone began to vibrate nonstop on the kitchen table. Jude’s name flashed on the screen, along with a long list of notifications.

She looked at your phone and then back at you.

—He’s been trying to reach you?

—Since last night. —You sighed. —He’s sent me a bunch of messages, but I… I don’t know what to say.

—We want to hear those messages! —Keegan said, crossing his arms. —He has a lot of explaining to do.

You hesitated, but picked up your phone. The most recent messages read:

“Y/n, please talk to me.”

“I know you saw it, but it’s not what it seems.”

“Give me a chance to explain.”

"Y/n, please answer me."

—I don't want to talk to him right now...

You said, throwing the phone back on the table.

—And you don't have to —Your mom stated, taking your hand. —If he really cares, he'll wait until you're ready.

Your younger brother, however, couldn't contain his anger.

—I swear, if he shows up here, he'll regret it.

You sighed, exhausted both physically and emotionally.

—I just want some time. I want to forget all of this for a day.

She kissed the top of your head.

—And you'll have it. I'll take care of everything, darling.

Jude pov's.

The day you returned to school was the most anticipated and feared for Jude. He had spent sleepless nights, worried about you, wondering what you would say when you finally saw you. He hoped that somehow you could make up for what you had done. But when you walked into the classroom that morning, he knew immediately that things would not be as he dreamed.

You looked different. Not physically, but in your posture. Your shoulders were tense, your face closed, and the characteristic sparkle in your eyes seemed dull. As soon as you walked through the door, Jude tried to catch your gaze, but you completely ignored him, as if he were invisible.

When the teacher asked everyone to sit down, you raised your hand.

—Teacher, can I change seats?

Your voice was low, but firm.

Jude felt his heart tighten. You wanted to get away from him.

The teacher frowned in surprise.

—Any specific reason, Y/n?

—I don’t feel comfortable where I am.

There was a low murmur in the room, your classmates exchanging glances. The teacher hesitated for a moment before nodding.

—Okay, sit in the back, next to Mia.

You gathered your things without looking at Jude and went to your new seat. He watched every move, feeling a mixture of guilt and despair.

During class, he could barely concentrate. Bellingham was used to sharing laughter and whispers with you, but now you were so far away that it felt like there was a gulf between you.

During break, he saw you sitting with Lucy and Mia, but even from a distance, it was clear that you weren’t really there. Your friends tried to talk and cheer you up, but you just picked at your food, not smiling at all.

He tried to get closer, but Mia looked up, sending a silent warning: This isn’t the time.

Jude stepped back, but the uneasiness wouldn’t leave him alone. He knew he needed to talk to you, even if it was just to apologize again.

When he left, he waited for you in the hallway. You walked alone, with your headphones on and your eyes fixed on the floor. When he saw you, something in his chest tightened.

—Y/n, wait!

He called, blocking your path.

You stopped, but didn’t look him in the eye.

—What do you want, Jude?

Your voice was cold, distant.

He swallowed hard.

—I want to talk to you. Please, just listen to me.

You let out a bitter laugh.

—I’ve heard enough, Bellingham. Do you think a few words will change what happened?

—It wasn’t like you think. Amelie kissed me, but I…

—You didn’t do anything to push her away. —You finally looked at him, and Jude felt the weight of the hurt in your eyes. —You didn’t even think about me.

He tried to get closer, but you took a step back.

—Y/n, please. You’re my best friend. I miss you.

You shook your head.

—Friend? Is that what I am to you? Because, to me, you were so much more, Jude. But now… —Your voice faltered, and you quickly looked away. —I just want to stay away.

Before he could answer, you walked past him and quickly left, leaving him standing in the hallway, feeling emptier than ever.

In the days that followed, the distance between you only grew. You didn’t talk to him during classes, and during breaks, you continued to distance yourself. Even with your friends, it seemed like you weren’t the same.

Jude tried to find ways to get closer, but each attempt was a failure. He sent messages that went unanswered. He tried to “accidentally” bump into you in the hallways, but you would dodge them before he could even say anything.

He realized that his presence seemed to bother you, and that hurt him more than he could express.

At home, Jude couldn’t think of anything else. He revisited in his mind every moment he had spent with you, from childhood to that night at the dance. He hated himself for having ruined everything.

Denise, his mother, noticed her son's strange behavior.

—Did you and Y/n fight?

She asked, as he pushed the food around on his plate.

The older brother sighed.

—It was more than that, mum. I hurt her. And now I think I've lost Y/n forever.

Denise put her hand on his shoulder.

—If she's so important to you, don't give up. But sometimes the only thing we can do is give her space.

Jude knew his mother was right, but the idea of ​​being away from you consumed him. He wasn't sure if you would ever forgive him. And with every cold look you gave him at school, he felt like he was being punished for something he could never fix.

[nicnak20]

9 months:

*Nicholas documents you and your nine-month journey being pregnant and him watching your baby grow inside of you.*

{Nicholas's POV}

The world shifted the moment Yn told me. We were sitting on the sofa, watching a movie, her head resting on my chest, the usual comfort wrapping us like a warm blanket. Then she just… lifted her head, her eyes bright and a little teary, holding up a small plastic stick. There were two lines.

My heart didn't just skip a beat; it performed a chaotic, joyful somersault. I remember the breath catching in my throat, a sudden, overwhelming wave of pure, unadulterated love washing over me – love for her, love for this tiny, theoretical life, love for the future that just exploded into brilliant colour.

"We're…?" I whispered, my voice thick.

She nodded, a shaky, beautiful smile spreading across her face. "We are."

I pulled her into my arms, squeezing her gently, burying my face in her hair. "Oh, Yn. My love. My amazing Yn." Tears welled up in my own eyes, hot and fast. I held her there for a long moment, just breathing her in, trying to absorb the magnitude of it. A baby. Our baby.

Later that night, after the initial flood of excitement had calmed into a steady, glowing warmth, I found myself looking at the positive test stick, carefully placed on her bedside table. It hit me then. This was the beginning of the most incredible journey of our lives. And I wanted to remember everything. Every tiny detail, every milestone, every feeling.

That's when the idea sparked. A scrapbook. A secret one, just for me, to capture her journey, our journey, through my eyes. Not just photos, but little mementos, notes, reflections, capturing the magic I knew was about to unfold. I wanted to build a physical record of how much she glowed, how much she changed, and how my love for her, and for our growing family, deepened with every single day.

The first doctor's appointment was a whirlwind of quiet anticipation. Holding Yn's hand in the waiting room, I felt a protective instinct bloom inside me, fierce and unwavering. It wasn't just about her anymore; it was about the precious cargo she carried.

When we heard that first, rapid whoosh-whoosh-whoosh of the heartbeat, it was like hearing the most beautiful music in the universe. I squeezed Yn's hand, and she squeezed back, tears glistening in both our eyes. Seeing the blurry little shape on the screen, like a tiny bean with a flickering light, was surreal. A life. Our life.

I made sure to get a copy of that first ultrasound picture. When we got home, after making sure Yn was comfortable with a cup of tea and a warm blanket – my new default setting was 'Ensure Yn's Maximum Comfort and Happiness' – I went to my study. I pulled out a plain, hardback notebook and some archival glue. I carefully placed the ultrasound photo on the first page, writing the date and a simple note underneath: "The beginning. Our little miracle." This was the foundation of my secret project.

The early weeks were a delicate dance of excitement and managing morning sickness. Poor Yn felt rough sometimes, but even through the fatigue and nausea, her inherent sweetness shone through. I’d wake up before her to make her toast, keep ginger ale stocked, and just be there.

Listening, holding her hair back if needed, rubbing her back. My patience, something she always complimented me on, became her quiet anchor. There was no task too small, no request too inconvenient if it made her feel even a tiny bit better. It was a privilege, an honor, to care for her in this new way. I jotted down notes in my scrapbook – details of her cravings (suddenly obsessed with sour candies), the way she’d fall asleep curled up on the sofa, her quiet strength even when feeling unwell.

Month by month, the changes became more visible. Her belly, initially just a slight curve, began to round out. I started a ritual: once a month, around the same date, I’d take a photo of her profile, standing against a simple background. I’d also take an old tailor's tape measure and gently measure the circumference of her belly, jotting the number down.

Seeing the progression, laid out in photos and numbers, was astonishing. It felt like watching a slow, continuous miracle unfold right before my eyes. I’d place these photos and measurements in the scrapbook, a visual timeline of our growing child and my incredible wife.

Doctor's appointments became a regular part of our routine. I made sure to be at every single one. I wanted to hear every word the doctor said, ask questions, and just be present with Yn. I'd watch her face during the scans, seeing the wonder and love reflected there, mirroring my own.

Each time we got another ultrasound photo, more detailed than the last – seeing tiny fingers, toes, a profile that was starting to look distinctly human – my heart would swell. I'd carefully collect appointment cards, printouts of information sheets, anything that felt significant, and add them to the book. Next to these items, I’d write my own notes: “Heard the heartbeat again today – stronger this time!”, “She’s measuring perfectly. So proud of my girl!”, “Saw her yawn during the scan! My heart melted.”

Feeling the baby move for the first time was another landmark I meticulously documented. Yn was about five months along, resting on my lap while we watched TV. Suddenly, she gasped, a sweet, surprised sound. “Did you feel that?” she whispered. I hadn’t, but I placed my hand flat on her belly, waiting. A few seconds later, a distinct flutter, then a little bump, right under my palm. It was magic. Pure, simple magic.

I held my hand there for ages, feeling the gentle, sporadic movements, a direct connection to the life inside her. From then on, feeling her movements became a favorite pastime. I’d talk to her, sing silly songs, or just rest my hand there, feeling that incredible connection strengthen every day. In the scrapbook, I wrote about the date of the first kick, how it felt, and how it made everything feel so much more real.

Preparing the nursery was a project filled with love. Picking out the paint color, assembling the crib (sweating over the assembly instructions, but determined to do it myself), folding tiny clothes – each step was imbued with the anticipation of bringing our daughter home.

Yn supervised, her nesting instincts in full gear, but she’d often just sit in the room, her hand on her belly, a soft smile on her face, imagining our future. I took pictures of her there, surrounded by signs of the coming arrival, and added them to the scrapbook. I wrote about the feeling of finishing the room, the quiet hope and excitement that filled that little space. We had decided early on we loved the name Emma. Short for Emmeline, meaning ‘universal’ or ‘whole’. It felt right, perfect for our little girl.

Childbirth classes were another shared experience. Holding Yn’s hand as we learned breathing techniques, hearing about the stages of labor – it was both practical and emotional. It solidified my role as her partner, her support system.

I paid attention, asked questions, and practiced the massage techniques the instructor showed us. My goal was simple: to be the best possible support for her. Her comfort, her strength, her experience were paramount. I wrote notes during these classes and included them – reminders of positions, breathing, and reassuring phrases to use.

As the due date approached, the atmosphere in our home shifted again. A quiet readiness settled over us, mixed with nervous excitement. Yn was uncomfortable sometimes, her belly large and unwieldy, but her patience and gentle nature never wavered. I’d fetch things for her, help her get comfortable, rub her feet, or just sit beside her, reading aloud or simply existing in comforting silence. I took the last monthly belly photo, the difference from the first one staggering. I added it to the scrapbook, marveling at the transformation.

The day her labor started, it wasn't dramatic like in movies. It began subtly, quiet contractions that eventually grew stronger and closer together. My protective instincts went into overdrive, but my dominant feeling was a calm, focused determination to be there for her. We stayed home as long as possible, following our birth plan, me timing contractions, reminding her to breathe, holding her hand, rubbing her back just like we’d practiced. My heart ached for her discomfort, but I was in awe of her strength.

The drive to the hospital felt surreal. Checking in, getting settled in the labor room – it all passed in a blur of focused activity. Once in the room, my world narrowed to just Yn. I was her advocate, her cheerleader, her physical anchor.

Holding her hand through contractions, offering sips of water, placing cool cloths on her forehead – these simple acts felt like the most important things I had ever done. I talked to her constantly, soft words of encouragement, telling her how amazing she was, how proud I was of her, how much I loved her. The "fluff" wasn't an act; it was the overflow of my genuine feelings, amplified by the intensity of the moment.

When the time came to push, the energy in the room was electric. I was right there by her side, holding her hand, looking into her eyes, coaching her, reminding her of her strength. My own emotions were a tangled mess of worry, hope, and immense love for her. Then, suddenly, amidst the controlled chaos, a cry. A tiny, powerful sound that cut through everything else.

Our Emma was here.

The doctor held her up, a wriggling, pink little being, and time stopped. She was perfect. Absolutely, impossibly perfect. Tiny hands, a little button nose, a full head of dark hair like mine. Tears streamed down my face, blurring my vision, but I couldn't tear my eyes away. I looked from Emma to Yn, my tired, beautiful wife, whose face was radiant with exhaustion and pure, unconditional love.

After they placed Emma on Yn’s chest for skin-to-skin, I stood there, just looking at them, this new, complete family unit. The doctor asked if I wanted to cut the cord. My hands were shaking, but I nodded, utterly honored. It felt significant, this final physical severing, transitioning from being connected inside her to being connected to her in the world.

When it was my turn to hold her, my heart expanded in my chest until I thought it might burst. She was so small, so soft, so warm. She rooted against my chest, her tiny hand fisting against my shirt. I whispered to her, telling her I was her daddy, that I loved her more than words could say, that she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. It wasn't just love; it was a fierce, protective, soul-deep connection that formed instantly, irrevocably.

In the quiet hours that followed, while Yn rested, I sat holding Emma, just watching her sleep, marveling at every tiny feature. I took a few photos with my phone – careful not to use flash – capturing her tiny hands, her little yawns, her curled-up body. I already knew exactly where these would go in the scrapbook. I also made sure to get a copy of her footprint card from the hospital.

Back home, navigating life with a newborn was a challenge and a joy all at once. Sleepless nights were softened by the sheer wonder of her existence.

Changing diapers, rocking her to sleep, watching her tiny expressions – everything felt significant and beautiful. My focus shifted from supporting Yn through pregnancy to supporting both her and Emma. Making sure Yn was comfortable while nursing, bringing her food and water, taking Emma so Yn could rest, tackling the laundry – it was a partnership built on deep love and mutual care.

Late one night, while Yn and Emma were sleeping soundly, I sat in my study. I pulled out the scrapbook. It felt heavy in my hands, a tangible chronicle of the past nine months and the miraculous culmination. I started adding the final items: the foot print card, photos of Emma’s first moments, a small tag from her first onesie.

And then I wrote. I wrote about the birth, about the overwhelming feeling of seeing Emma for the first time, about holding her, about watching Yn become a mother. I wrote about the quiet perfection of our little family.

Flipping through the pages, I saw the journey laid out. The early ultrasound, the monthly belly photos showing her growth, the little notes about cravings and kicks, the pictures of the nursery, the birth details, and finally, photos of our perfect Emma. It wasn't just a collection of mementos; it was a story. Our story. A story of love, patience, anticipation, and the incredible miracle of life.

Looking at the final page, a photo of me holding Emma, her tiny hand gripping my finger, a profound sense of fulfillment washed over me. I wasn’t just Nicholas anymore; I was Daddy. And seeing Yn in the next room, holding Emma, my heart swelled with a love so vast it felt like it could encompass the universe.

This scrapbook, this secret project born from a desire to remember everything, wasn’t just for me. It was a testament to the strength and beauty of my wife, the miracle of our daughter, and the depth of the love that bound us together.

One day, perhaps when Emma is older, I’ll show it to her. I'll tell her how much she was wanted, how much she was loved from the very first moment, and how her mother is the most incredible woman I know. Until then, it remains my quiet treasure, a physical manifestation of the most beautiful chapter of my life. Every page is filled with fluff, yes, but it's the honest, deep kind of fluff that comes from a heart overflowing with gratitude and love for my two girls.

[selarina]

-> Satoru Gojo/Reader (ft. Suguru Getou)

Summary: Getou Suguru finds himself living not only with his roommate Gojo Satoru, but also with his girlfriend.

Tags: love triangle, jealousy, unrequited love, light sexual content (implied/referenced), fluff, unresolved sexual tension, emotional distress, mention of reader having periods, mentions of infidelity, themes of polyamory, alcohol consumption, mild language, third person pov, eventual smut

Word Count: 4.2k words

Author's Note: i wrote this before challengers came out i swear

Read on AO3

You waddle in, hair mussed and eyes bleary, absently rubbing at them like a child.

“Morning,” Getou says, with a smile.

“Morning,” you reply, punctuating it with a yawn.

You’re swathed in a dim blue corduroy shirt that fits loosely around your figure. Your shorts lay hidden right under the shirt, extending merely a few centimeters from where the hem of the shirt ends. 

Getou doesn’t mean to stare, but it stands out — there’s a soft crimson hue that’s sitting right below the end of your shorts, and at the center of which is a pretty bite mark.

Getou stares at the mark a bit longer than he could feel normal about but he relents — as one does. He pours out a cup of juice for you. A routine. A loose routine. Some days it’s juice, other days it’s toast. Some days it’s fruit. 

“Thank you, Getou,” you smile at him as you always do. 

He likes your company at his house. At first, he admittedly didn’t, you woke up at ungodly hours, you often scared him when he returned from work, and you left your coat around on the sofa instead of the coat hanger. But all that’s changed now. Now you seem to waltz with the very air that sits in his house, making space for yourself, like a drawer for your clothes and a coaster for your mug. It works.

Almost like you’re all just in a well-timed play, Satoru walks in. And he’s wearing one of his many gray sweatpants.

Suguru doesn’t linger on his presence having witnessed him come out of the same room in so many different forms over the years. It’s routine now, he doesn’t have to bat an eye at him to know he’s walked in, but he does look, allowing himself the indulgence — his eyes lingering on a red hue around his neck, another pretty bite mark, mirroring the one of your thigh.

Today Satoru seems to be a touch weary in his movement. Getou could tell it’s just one of those mornings when he would get a bit extra grumpy. A fleeting state that would soon pass after a stomach full of breakfast.

Satoru moves, standing behind you, hands encircling you in a hug as he buries his face in your back.

“Morning, Suguru,” Satoru’s voice emerged, muffled against your back.

“Good morning, Satoru,” Getou answers, as he promptly places a third cup of juice for Satoru, with the same practiced grace he extended to you.

“Morning baby,” he murmured. He comes up to leave a soft peck on your cheek, and he says it hushed like it’s only meant for you to hear. 

“I know I’m preaching to the choir,” Getou starts. He hopes the annoyance is permeating onto his face, hoping his disquiet reaches you both. “But these walls — they’re thin, you know?”

“Oh? I’m sorry, Getou! We’ll be sure to moan in whispers,” Satoru quickly retorts, as he punctuates that sentence with a wry grin. 

His face seemed perfectly punchable to Getou in this moment — what with his toothpaste ad-worthy grin. He stared, a poker face as he thinks he’s never seen a look as inviting and off-putting as Gojo Satoru’s.

You cinch your brows in annoyance but Getou notices one side of your mouth curving itself into a half-smile. You’ve always been good at this, your face is neither restrained nor fully disclosed. He frowns. 

You turn to hit Satoru lightly on his shoulders, Satoru even turns so you can reach more easily. “Stop!” you giggle as you turn to look at Getou. “Getou, please forgive his audacity. We’ll be quiet next time. I promise.” 

Your face tries to maintain a sincere smile but it’s never sincere enough to stop you from moaning your way to sleep. 

A sigh escapes Getou, a sigh borne of a quiet acceptance as he sets out three plates on the table.

—

Getou sits, hunched over his desk, the lamp casting a pool of jaundiced light onto the scattered papers, he’s nearly halfway through his report. Half an hour more, he thinks, and the whole thing will be done. If he focuses as he has been for the past hour, that is. But of course, as though he is cursed to partake in a comedic play — no, tragic play — he hears the muted whimpers from across the fragile wall that separates him from the two of you. 

He knows the script by heart now. It is only time before it gets louder and louder and louder before he has to blast music on an alarmingly high level to drown it all out.

And he’s not sure what makes him break this time, maybe it’s the report, maybe it’s the lack of good sleep from the previous night but he bangs against the wall.

Once. Bam!

Two. Bam!

Three. Bam!

Three bangs, and the sounds immediately cease to a stop. 

“I have a report to finish,” he announces into the stillness, his voice loud, to ensure it penetrates through the wall.

The silence stretches on. Satisfied, Getou returns to his report.

—

He comes out, his eyes are tired as he thinks about what to make for dinner tonight. 

“Hey Suguru,” you say from your place over on the couch, it pulls him only slightly back to the present.

“Hey,” he returns, his hands barely hanging onto his shoulders as he redoes his hair into a quick bun. He witnesses the aftermath in the half-reflection of a glass cupboard. He can barely see himself, barely a silhouette of a man, he thinks. 

“What do you guys want tonight?” he asks, peering into the fridge, surveying the contents with a hollow gaze.

Satoru rises from his cozy place in between your legs, marching over to grab Getou away from the fridge. Getou would be baffled if he wasn’t so tired and numb from finishing up the report.

“There’s no need for that. We figured you’re tired and want to rip our heads off at this point so we could never make you cook for us in this state,” Satoru pats his shoulders, gripping it a bit more tightly now as he guides him to take a seat on the couch.

Getou barely notices an assortment of different sushi alongside an already corked open bottle of red wine that seemed to magically materialize before his eyes.

He simply stares, wanting Gojo to just explain, he’s too tired to ask, too tired to truly care enough to not give in.

“Dinner’s on us tonight,” Satoru grins, the same familiar toothpaste ad-worthy grin that grows less and less annoying by the day. 

Getou would groan out loud if he had the energy for it.

“More like Sushi and Sticks, but yes, on us tonight,” you add, pouring wine into a third glass and handing it to Getou.

He takes it, muttering, “There’s no need for all this.”

“Of course there is. Just eat, Suguru.” Satoru plops sushi into his mouth as he speaks.

Your face twinges in annoyance. “Don’t talk while eating." You turn back to Suguru now, as your face shifts into a smile. "And besides, Suguru — I’m more worried about you poisoning our dinner tonight.”

Suguru manages to chuckle at that, mostly at the crooked way your lips are smirking, white tooth shining in between.

He takes a sip from the glass. He doesn’t usually like red wine but he couldn’t care less tonight, he’ll indulge and leave all the head-banging to his tomorrow self.  

—

The next morning, Suguru finds himself sprawled on the floor, his head pulsing with an unforgiving ache, echoing over and over against the confines of his skull. He decides he needs to clean the living room, having remembered not cleaning up after last night but he seems ensnared by a weight holding his arm down. 

He turns, his chin pressing into his chest as he tries to look without moving and — it’s you, nestled against his arm mirroring the same tenderness one would show a comforting plush companion. 

Satoru clings to you, in a similar manner, only he’s nestled against your stomach, instead of your arm.

Suguru very very carefully disattaches himself from the two of you, as he stands trying to shake off the drowsiness and the throbbing headache. He must have fallen asleep on the couch after dinner. How he ended up sprawled against Satoru and you is a question that remains unanswered and honestly, he doesn’t really want to know why, he decides.  

He swivels his head across the room and notices how the living room is clean — pristinely so, and the remnants of the sushi and wine are all tidied away into a box, and a closed bottle. He smiles, as he walks into his room. He’ll take a hot shower this morning.

—

“Hey, thank you for doing this with me Getou,” you say, as you roll up your sleeve.

“Anytime,” he says, following to mirror your actions. “Why didn’t you ask Satoru?” he asks, he's been nursing this question since you first invited him to join you.

“Well, I’ve been here with him. He hates the texture of clay, and I have been coming over here on my own but you know,” you continue, “if you like it, I’d love for this to be a regular thing between us,” you say with a smile, and something flops itself in his ribs, and suddenly he feels like he wants to leave.

“And Satoru is fine with this?" he prods.

"Fine with what?" you counter, your tone innocent, though a faint note of mischief lingers beneath the surface.

“You going to a couple’s clay therapy with… well, not him,” he says.

"Yeah," you affirm, your voice soft and reassuring. "He's fine with it. I know he whines like a baby, but he’s surprisingly mature with things like this, you know.” 

“Right,” he says plainly.

"Besides," you add, your hand gently squeezing him, “It's just you, Suguru." 

But he doesn’t feel reassured at all, he’s a bit upset Satoru doesn’t care because it’s just him, just Suguru. He’s his best friend so, of course, he’s fine with this. But nothing’s fine at all, and his hands tremble as he tries to hold the clay.

“Here—” you say, stepping up to draw closer to him, “Let me help.” 

And just like that, your hands are on his, and his hands stop trembling but his heart — it’s beating so fast, he hears it in his ears. You look up, a soft crinkle in your smile, a faint smudge of clay on your cheek as you encourage him. Maybe it’s the light or the softness of your hand against his, but he thinks he’s never seen a person as beautiful as you.

__

Both of you are greeted by the image of Satoru, cut straight from the cover of Vogue, he’s adorned in formal attire, a well-fitted blazer draping his frame.

"Wow," you exclaim, and Getou can't help but silently concur. Satoru cleans up impressively when he decides to wear more than just loosely fitted house clothing. "Where are you off to, Mr. Businessman?"

One second you’re beside Getou and the next you’re throwing yourself onto him, your hands encircling his neck, as you pepper soft kisses to his cheek. 

“There’s a gala tonight at Dad’s,” Satoru mumbles, a playful pout forming on his lips. “Please come with me or I won’t make it to bed tonight,” he says, throwing his head back as his grip loosens around you

“Sure, but I need to take a shower and get dressed. It'll take a bit,” you say, glancing down at your clay-stained clothing.

"It's alright," Satoru reassures you. “Come in when you’re ready. It's scheduled to continue until midnight,” he says. He then turns his attention to Getou. “You too – Suguru, Dad asked for you. You’re free, right?”

Getou's mind races, contemplating a myriad of excuses he could offer. He's not entirely sure which one will slip from his lips, but just as he's about to speak, you interject.

“He’s free all night,” you say. Right, he did tell you he had no plans. 

“I’ll see you both there,” Satoru grins, bestowing a soft peck on your cheek before jokingly leaning in to plant a kiss on Suguru's cheek as well. Suguru nudges him off with a groan, but can't suppress a small smile as Satoru walks away, giggling softly, toward the car.

—

“Wow,” you say, emerging from the room, a blue dress adorning your figure. As you approach Getou, you wrap a shawl around your neck. "You clean up nicely, Suguru."

"Thank you," he replies, his words plain as his eyes remain fixed on the mirror as he fumbles with tying his tie. 

Getou has always relied on Satoru for this task — ever since Satoru first learned to tie a tie at the age of seven, Suguru has had little need to do it himself. Satoru’s always around after all. Maybe he should wait until they arrive at the gala and let Satoru take care of it.

"I can help if that’s okay," you offer, and finally, Suguru turns to look at you. And it’s not a surprise, not when he found you beautiful with clay smeared on your face. You’re beautiful, in a refined sense this time.

"You look beautiful," he remarks, the words flowing forth unbidden and unrestrained from his lips. His eyes remain fixed on you, dazed and entranced.

"Thank you," you respond with a warm smile. Your hands reach for his tie, your fingers deftly adjusting its length.

You work quickly and efficiently, handing him your phone as you loop the tie and pull it up to his neck. "Is this too tight?" you inquire.

"No, it's perfect. Thank you," he replies, with a gulp, returning your phone with a smile.

"Shall we go?" you suggest, and all he can do is nod in silent agreement.

—

The event is grand, a slew of gold and shimmer greeting you as you enter through the big doors. You haven't attended many events hosted by the Gojo household, for Satoru rarely graces such occasions with his presence. However, when you have attended, they have always been nothing short of grand.

You make a conscious effort not to be daunted by the esteemed guests. Being with Gojo Satoru requires an air of confidence that should precede the man himself. He effortlessly commands respect solely by his birthright, but you need to command respect despite your birthright. Still, it comes easy to you as your hands are locked with Getou’s, you walk through — your head held high, only greeting those who bow to greet you. 

You’re only at the precipice of your entry, and Satoru walks his way towards the two of you. The hand locked to your own starts to falter but you hold it tight, turning to eye Suguru who looks at you confused. Satoru’s here now, you can let go but you don’t — you merely tighten your hand as Satoru holds his hand out for your other, unoccupied hand. 

You smile, “Why, thank you.” And the three of you enter in lockstep with each other.

The evening goes as every evening at this household does — Satoru’s by your side clinging to you as he whines about leaving, you remind him that you all just got here, Getou passes you some food, and you chomp on them as you sip the wine, judging its taste with Suguru, Satoru disappears, presumably having a fight with his father, as you look all over trying to find him. 

The evening proceeds as every evening at the Gojo residence does. Satoru clings to your side, bemoaning the idea of leaving even though you've all just arrived. You reassure him, reminding him that the event has only just begun. Getou discreetly passes you some food from the counter, and you nibble on it while sipping your wine, judging its taste with Suguru. Satoru vanishes momentarily, presumably locked in a confrontation with his father, and you look all over the building trying to find him. 

This time, however, Suguru doesn’t help you look. He stops you, his voice soft but resolute. “Let's dance.” 

You're taken aback, but you accept his outstretched hand. You know he’s partly doing this because you’re too worried today, Satoru seems to be in a more fragile state than usual — what with his mother, his father, and his father’s mistress making an appearance together today. 

Getou moves like a man with composure, his demeanor still and practiced as he swirls you across the floor. There's a slight fear in your heart that you might stumble and fall, but with each step, his hand holds your body tight, securing you with every move.

“You’re good at this,” you remark. “Really good.”

"Yeah," he replies. "I've had some practice," he recalls a time when Satoru had offered to help him learn how to dance before prom — to impress his date. "Satoru taught me," he admits.

"Right, checks out," you chuckle. "You're even better than him though. Do you secretly practice in that little room of yours?" you squint your eyes, with a smirk on your lips.

“Well, only so I can impress pretty girls like you,” he quips, punctuating his statement with a graceful dip.

You rise from the dip, a soft heat coursing through your cheeks. You're about to respond when you notice Satoru standing alone, a forlorn expression on his face as he downs a glass of alcohol. Suguru’s eyes follow your own as he turns, his own expression shifting to one of concern — Satoru rarely indulges in alcohol.

“You should talk to him,” you suggest, aware of the soft, resentful pang within your insulated chest that recognizes — right now, Satoru needs Suguru more than you. He’s a much more practiced person in the art of soothing Satoru having decades to perfect them. And besides, you figure someone needs to cover for the three of you here, and it might as well be you and your pretty smiles.

Suguru nods, making his way across the hall to reach Satoru — he doesn’t say much, only asking him to follow him outside to the balcony, Satoru wordlessly complies.

"You should set the glass down, Satoru," Suguru gently advises, attempting to pry the drink from his grip. Satoru resists momentarily, causing a small spill on his suit.

"This suit was expensive, you know," Satoru mumbles, his words slurring slightly. “You’re paying for this.”

“Uh-huh,” it would cause barely a dent in Gojo’s account to replace the suit, but he knows he’s deflecting trying to talk about anything but what’s bothering him. "What's bothering you? We can leave if you want. We've been here for a while."

"I'm fine," Satoru insists, dawdling closer to the balcony's edge. Suguru hurries to hold onto him, his fingers tightening around Satoru's waist.

"You're not fine," Suguru counters gently. He manages to take the glass from Satoru's hand, setting it aside. "Tell me, Satoru."

"I don't... I don't know," Satoru confesses, his voice heavy and his voice meek. "I've known about them since I was ten. Why does it still bother me?" 

“It doesn't matter how long you've known about it. Emotions don't adhere to timelines, Satoru,” Suguru says, his words soft because they can be — it’s only the two of them out here in the chill of the evening air.

After a while, Satoru finally breaks the quietude. "Thank you for this," he says.

Suguru doesn’t respond.

“I don’t say this often, or at all but thank you,” he says, with a sad chuckle. 

Suguru smiles, as Satoru comes to hug him, flopping himself onto Suguru’s body. He’s tired and drunk and acting sappy, Suguru chuckles. Satoru tries to push back, and he manages — enough to leave a soft kiss on Suguru's neck, “Thank you.” He hears him mumble as he tightens his hold on Satoru.

Suguru attempts to pull back to meet Satoru's gaze, but the younger man seems dazed and half-conscious. It becomes clear to Suguru that it's time to take Satoru home.

—

Things change after the gala. Suguru finds that he prefers this to whatever was happening before. At least now, he’s in here with the two of you, able to take up space in his own living room, his own house — instead of being cooped up in his room in order to avoid sharing space with you two. 

You started inviting him out to events you attend, he finds that you’re far more resourceful than himself or Satoru — you have a myriad of hobbies, all of which you treat with care. He finds himself doing the same, despite his disinterest in some — he likes the time he spends with you. Satoru starts joining in on some days. On other days, he lounges on the couch, inviting Suguru to fall into a routine of laziness with him, the two of them end up napping all day, only for you to come join them in the evening. 

You hear the click of the door handle turning, and then shuffling, before Getou flits into the living room with a small cover in his hand. 

He’s about to greet you when he sees you in your sorry state — nose running, eyes weeping with a slew of tissues at your feet.

“Uhh—” He stops to take the scene entirely before his eyes flit to the screen in front of you — a movie with a dog and some child playing. “Are you on your period?” He finishes, looking directly at you, face serious with concern. 

Your mouth opens ajar in shock, “I hope this is some sort of bad joke on your part,” you retort.

“No, I’m just confused,” he replies, eyeing the screen and back to your face. His face serious and lacking of any sense of amusement, 

“What’s confusing — I’m allowed to cry without it being my period,” you say, firmly but he’s finding it hard to take you seriously when all he wants to do is squish your cheeks. “I’m allowed to be sad,” you say.

“You’re just — you’re not often,” he says plainly.

Another figure flits into the scene with sleepy eyes and the same excruciating sweatpants.“Shit baby, are you on your period again?” he says, with a yawn.

Your mouth opens up more, in shock, in annoyance before you speak up a simple word — “Couch.”

Getou only then chuckles.

“What? What did I do?” He whines, immediately by your side as he clings to your head. “Baby?” He prods again, and you can tell he’s trying to don puppy eyes but you can’t see him through all your tears.

“Couch,” you reaffirm. “Tonight.”

You hear Getou giggle from the kitchen before he’s by your side, his hand stretching over to give you — “Ice cream?” He asks.

You take it wordlessly but Getou doesn’t miss the soft crinkles on your face.

The three of you settle on the couch, you in the middle, with Satoru and Suguru flanking you on either side. Satoru wraps his arms around you, pulling you close as you snuggle against him, your tears slowly subsiding. Suguru leans in, his hand resting on your thigh in a comforting gesture. Suguru can’t help but wander with his mind, is it normal for Gojo to let him, his best friend, do this to his girlfriend? Is it normal for him to like it?

"You guys are kinda sweet when you’re not being dicks, you know," you sniffle, wiping away the remnants of your tears with a tissue.

Getou chuckles softly, and Satoru joins in, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

—

"I should probably head home.”

Satoru pouts playfully. "Can't you stay a little longer, baby?"

“No, I have class tomorrow and I don’t want to be late.”

“Getou can drop you with the car, it’s fine. Stay. Pretty please,” he pouts even more.

“What?” Getou asks. “Why should I drop her?”

“You don’t want to drop me?” you ask, he doesn’t miss the slight hurt in your voice, in fact, it stings at his heart but he’s confused and he doesn’t understand anything at all at this moment.

“No— Of course, I don’t mind. But Satoru can drop you,” he says, confusingly reassuring.

“What?” Gojo asks, confused. “You know I sleep in. And you’re up by that time anyway.”

“But you are the boyfriend,” he rolls his eyes. “You should be doing this,” he says.

“Well, if that’s all,” Satoru chuckles, getting up to come and place himself standing beside Getou. He lifts his hand up, patting both sides of Suguru’s shoulders like he’s knighting him. “I now dub you my girlfriend’s boyfriend.” He continues to chuckle as you join in with the chortles but Suguru doesn’t laugh.

Satoru, still reeling from the humor, leans down and kisses your forehead. "Don't worry, sweetheart, I know Suguru will drop you home. He always does. And if not, I dunno know— just kick me awake."

“Fine, fine. See you both tomorrow,” you say, giving both of them a final smile before you head out the door.

Suguru remains still, still dazed from the knighting scene, and watches as you blend into the darkness of Satoru's bedroom.

[shubblelive]

“this man is to me what jack manifold is to you guys”

[mymindcreatedthis]

Birthday Present (18+

Lia Wälti x Reader

Word count: 3,771

Summary: It’s reader’s birthday and Lia decides to give Reader a special birthday present.

Warning: Smut, Dirty talk, unprotected sex, Creampies, squirting, Blowjob, Throatpie, Breeding, Missonary, Cowgirl, Standing up.

*Y/n's pov*

We just finished practice, we grab our things and head into the locker room. The girls shower and change, I sit in front of my locker and mess around on my phone. Waiting for the girls to finish up in the showers and locker room, the girls finish up in the showers. They get dressed and so start piling out of the locker room.

Eventually it was just me. I grab my shower stuff, I get undressed and hit the showers. I shower, I wash my hair and body and rinse off my hair and body.

I turn off the shower, I get dried off and get dressed, I grab my bag and join the girls on the bus. We leave the stadium and head back to the hotel.

Me and Lia go up to our room. Lia unlocks the door and opens it, we go inside. I set my bag off to the side, I take off my shoes and set them off to the side and plop down on my bed and sigh In relief.

Lia giggles. "You're so dramatic."

"Yeah yeah." I say.

We chill in our room and watch a movie together until it's time for dinner.

After the movie we go downstairs for dinner. We grab our food and sit down at a table. While we are eating dinner coach taps her cup with a spoon, we get quiet. Coach stand up and grabs her cup.

"First of all I wanna congratulate you guys for a really good practice you girls are doing amazing and are really putting in the work and I have a good feeling we're gonna kick Mexicos ass. Second, don't forget today is Y/n's birthday." The coach says. She raises her glass and we do a toast.

The girls clap and cheer. "So after dinner we are gonna celebrate and have cake." Coach says.

The girls laugh and cheer. "Happy birthday Y/n." The girls say.

"Thank you guys. I really appreciate it." I smile.

I shake coachs hand and hug her. "Happy birthday kiddo." She says to me.

"Thank you." I smile. We finish eating dinner and we celebrate and eat cake. Coach puts on a movie I picked out as we eat cake.

Lia tells me she's going back up to our room and calling it a night. coach starts the movie during the movie my phone pings letting me know I have a text message. I grab my phone and check it.

Lia: Come up to our room baby, call it a night I got a birthday present for you.

Me: Okay I'll be up in a bit.

We finish the movie after the movie I decide to call it a night. I go back up to our room, I unlock the door and go in.

I turn and see Lia walking towards me she was only wearing her bra and panties. I bite my lip and check her out as she walks towards me. I instantly get hard at the sight, Lia notice this and smirks.

"Is someone hard?" Lia asks seductively.

I blush darkly and nod. "I may have an idea on what we can do about that." Lia says.

She's now in front of me she pins me against the door and kisses me deeply. It turns into a make out session.

Lia continues to make out with me she reaches down and rubs my dick over my shorts. I moan in the kiss, Lia smiles against my lips. Lia breaks the kiss and pulls away.

"I want you to eat me out." Lia says.

I scoop her up and lay her on the bed. Lia giggles and squeals. I lay her down, I kiss her deeply.

Lia kisses back. She takes off my shirt and sports bra and tosses them off to the side.

I kiss her deeply. I take off her bra and toss it off to the side. I kiss her neck and kiss down to her chest. I kiss and suck on her chest leaving hickys. Lia moans and plays with my hair.

I kiss and suck on her boobs and leave hickys on her boobs. I reach down and rub her pussy over her panties, Lia moans as I do this.

I kiss from her boobs down to her stomach/abs. I kiss and suck on her abs leaving hickys.

Lia moans and plays with my hair. "Mmm fuck baby." She moans in pleasure. I kiss from her abs down to her thighs and kiss her inner thighs.

I kiss and suck on her inner thighs leaving hickys. Lia moans and gasps.

"S-Stop T-Teasing." Lia moans.

I stop and look up at her. "Patience baby."

I smirk, I kiss her thigh. I grab her panties and slide her panties down her thighs and toss them off to the side.

I kiss her pussy and lick her clit. Lia moans as I do this and plays with my hair.

"F-Fuck." Lia moans.

I insert a finger and slowly finger get as I lick and roll my tongue on her clit.

"Ohhh fuck." Lia moans in pleasure. I smirk against her pussy, I slip in a second finger and continue to finger her a bit faster than before as I eat her out.

I spit on her pussy, I stick my tongue deep in her pussy and continue to eat her out. Lia moans as her legs shake and buckle in pleasure.

"Oh god, right there Y/n right there." Lia moans. I continue to eat her out licking her clit and finger her faster and faster.

"Ahh fuck I'm close." Lia moans in pleasure.

I lick her clit adding pressure and roll my tongue on her clit adding different pleasure.

"Shit I'm cumming, I'm cumming." Lia moans.

Lia cums all over my face, in my mouth, on my fingers and on my hand.

I lick her pussy. I lick and clean up her sticky mess, I wipe her juices off my face and lick her cum off my fingers.

"Mmm tasty." I smirk and lick her pussy again.

Lia blushes darkly and moans as I lick up her cum and help her ride out her high. Lia moans and comes down from her high panting and trying to catch her breath.

"Fuck you really know how to eat pussy." Lia pants out.

We take a moment for Lia to catch her breathe once she catches her breath she flips us around, I giggle and squeal as she pin me to the bed me on the bottom and her on top.

"Mmm I wanna taste you and suck your dick." Lia says seductively.

I bite my lip as she slides my shorts and underwear down my legs and tosses them off to the side. Lia lays between my legs, she wraps her hand around my dick and slowly strokes my dick.

I moan as she does this. "Mmm fuck."

Lia smiles, and strokes my dick a bit faster. "Your huge baby."

"T-Thanks." I stutter and blush darkly.

Lia continues to stroke my dick. Once I'm hard Lia takes my dick in her mouth, Lia slowly bobs her head.

I moan and run my fingers through her hair. "Mmm shit." I moan in pleasure.

I moan in pleasure as the tip of my dick hits the back of her throat as she bobs her head, I moan and hold her hair up in a ponytail as she continue to give me head.

"F-Fuck." I moan as she bobs her head a bit faster. "Shit Lia, just like that."

Lia hums against my dick and bobs her head faster than before. I can feel myself getting closer and closer to cumming.

"Lia baby.... I'm close." I moan in pleasure.

Lia continues to suck the souls out of my dick. I moan as I feel that all to familiar feeling in my balls.

Throat pie:

I moan in pleasure I can't take it anymore. I bust my load in her mouth. Lia chokes and gags a bit as I cum in her mouth.

Lia swallows my load and sucks me dry getting the rest of my cum. Lia takes my dick out of her mouth she smiles and opens her mouth showing me a mouth full of cum.

I smile and gently rub her chin. “Swallow my load.” I say seductively.

Some of my cum drips down her chin and onto her boobs. She smiles and swallows my load.

"Mmm daddy you taste good." Lia says.

Lia gets up and leans back, she runs her soaking folds with her fingers. She scoops up whatever cum she can off her tits and rubs it all over her pussy using it as lube.

"Mmm I want to feel you deep inside me baby. Fill me up with your load." Lia says seductively.

"Are you sure baby?" I ask making sure this is what she really wants.

"Yes I'm sure. Cum in me as many times as you want to baby I'm on a pill." Lia says.

I get up, Lia scoots to the edge of the bed and spreads her legs giving me full access to her pussy. She lifts her legs up, I slide my dick through her folds.

Once my dick is wet enough I slide my dick deep inside her soaking wet tight pussy. I grab her legs and rest them on my shoulders, I grab her ass.

"Tell me when to move." I say.

Lia takes a moment to adjust to my size deep inside her. "Fuck I thought you were big in my mouth I feel full with you deep inside me."

I smirk, I lean down and kiss her deeply. Lia kisses me back.

"Move." Lia moans.

I rest my head against Lia’s I look deep into her eyes as I slowly thrust in and out of her.

*Lia’s Pov*

I moan in pleasure as Y/n slowly thrusts in and out of me. Fuck she's really deep inside me, I can feel her massive dick throbbing deep inside me. She really needed a release. I moan and rest my head against hers.

I look down and watch her dick slowly slide in and out of me. Fuck she was balls deep inside me. She was so sexy, her cute moans as she thrusts into me a bit faster than before.

I moan I reach down and grip her ass as she thrusts into me a bit faster than before.

"Mmm fuck you're really deep in there." I moan in pleasure.

"Yeah you like that baby? Daddy balls deep inside you and stretching out your walls?" She questions as she goes a bit faster.

"Mmm I love it." I moan in pleasure as she balls slap against my skin.

Fuck she was so sexy when she was Dom, her being Dom made me even more wet and made my legs weak.

I moan in pleasure my walls clench around her walls. It's only been 10 minutes and I was already about to cum.

"Mmm someone close?" Y/n asks seductively.

"Mmm I'm close baby I'm gonna cum." I moan in pleasure.

"Let go baby. Cum for daddy." Y/n sexily whispers and nips my ear.

I moan as she kisses and sucks on my neck leaving hickys. I moan as I feel myself getting closer to cumming.

"Ahh I'm squirting." I moan in pleasure.

I squirts all over her abs, thighs, dick and all over the floor. Y/n smirks and keeps going.

Y/n goes at an angle and hits my g spot, Y/n and I both moan in pleasure. Y/n rubs my boobs a bit roughly as she continues to pound my G spot.

I moan loudly in pleasure. "Ahh I'm cumming, I'm cumming." I moan in pleasure.

I moan and let go and coat her dick with my cum and juices. Y/n smirks as I cum all over her dick.

Y/n picks up the pace and goes faster and harder than before. I moan and lay my head back, my boobs bounce up and down as she goes faster.

Y/n moans as she pounds my g spot at a faster and harder pace. Our moans fill the room as her balls slapping against my skin.

Y/n moans, her dick was throbbing big time she was so cute and desperate for a release. I squeeze her ass a bit.

"Mmm cum baby. Cum deep inside my pussy." I say seductively.

Y/n moans, she leans up and massages her boobs roughly and she goes faster and harder. My cum coats her dick and runs down my folds as Y/n uses it as lube.

"Like that daddy? You dick deep in my slut pussy?" I ask seductively.

"Mmm I love it." Y/n moans.

Y/n's breathing gets heavier as she starts to focus on her surroundings letting me know she's close to cumming.

"Yes cum in me cum in me." I moan.

Her balls slap against my dick. I moan as my walls clench around her dick again, I was about to cum again for a second time.

"I'm gonna cum." Y/n cutely moans.

"Yes give me your load daddy. Pump your seed deep inside of me." I moan.

I wrap my legs around her and hold her close to me putting her in a leg trap so she can't pull out.

Y/n moans loudly and unloads her massive load deep inside my pussy. I gasped and moan as she shoots her seed deep inside my pussy.

"Mmm fuck." I moan in pleasure.

I moan and sigh in pleasure as she unloads her warm sticky juices in my pussy. Me and her both moan as she continues to shoot ropes of thick sticky cum deep inside me.

"Ahh fuck. I'm sorry babe it felt so good." Y/n moans in pleasure.

"Don't be sorry baby. You finished in the right place. And like I said I'm on a pill." I moan.

God she had so much cum, she was still unloading her massive seed deep inside my pussy. Y/n moans, she slowly thrusts back and forth filling me up with the last of her cum as she comes down from her high.

Me and her come down from our highs, she moans and slowly pulls out.

*Y/n’s Pov*

I moan and pick up the pace, I continue to pound her g spot. Both me and Lia moan. Lia moans and squirts for a second time I feel her juices on my abs and thighs.

"Mmm fuck." Lia moans as I continue to fuck her g spot at an angle.

I smirk and moan as I feel her walls clench around my dick letting me know she was close.

"I'm cumming. I'm cumming." Lia moans.

She cums on my dick. I moan and keep going, her cum drips out of her pussy and coats her folds. I moan as we use her cum for Lube.

I moan and keep going, my breathing gets heavier. I moan and focus on my surroundings as I feel myself getting close to cumming.

Lia notices this. "Yes cum in me cum in me."

I moan, her dirty talking was making me close to cumming.

"Ahh I'm close." I moan in pleasure.

"Yes cum in me daddy. Unload your massive seed deep inside me." Lia moans.

Lia wraps her legs around me putting me in a leg trap so I can't pull out. I moan as I feel that all to familiar feeling in my balls.

Creampie #1:

I moan and bust my load deep inside her. Me and Lia both moan as I finish inside her.

"Mmm yes." Lia closes her eyes and smiles as I pump her full of my cum.

I moan and slowly thrust in and out of her as I continue to shoot ropes of thick sticky cum deep inside her.

I moan coming down from my high. Once I'm down finishing inside her I slowly pull out.

"I'm S-Sorry. I tried to pull out in time." I moan coming down from my high.

"Don't be sorry baby you finished in the right spot." Lia moans.

My cum oozes out of her and coats her folds and drips down the side of the bed and onto the floor.

"Mmm so much cum." Lia moans. She pushes as much cum as she cans back inside her pussy with her finger.

I smirk and grab Lia. I pick her up and hold her, Lia giggles and squeals as I pick her up.

I bite my lip, I slide my tip in her pussy and slowly slide her down on my dick. Lia moans as she takes my length back deep inside her pussy.

Lia moans, she takes a moment to adjust to my size.

"M-Move." Lia moans.

I moan and slowly slide her up and down on my dick. "Mmm I'm gonna destroy your tight wet pussy." I moan.

"Yeah daddy?" Lia moans.

I moan and move her up and down on my dick a bit faster than before. "I'm gonna fuck your brains out. I'm gonna pump you full of my cum." I moan in pleasure.

"Pleasure do it. I'm your cum slut." Lia moans.

"Mmm you're my cum dumpster slut." I moan and move her up and down faster and harder on my dick.

My balls slap against her skin as our moans fill the room.

"Ahh yes daddy make me your free use slut and cum dumpster." Lia moans.

"Mmm you're such a slight for daddy's dick and cum?" I ask seductively.

"Mmm fuck yes give me your load." Lia moans.

The only sounds in the room were our moans, my balls slapping against her skin and the tv playing in the background.

"Mmm so fucking good, I don't think I can last much longer. You have amazing grip." I moan in pleasure.

I slide her up and down on my dick even faster and harder than before.

"Please daddy please cum in my slut pussy. I deserve it, don't hold back." Lia says desperately she wanted my cum deep inside her.

Lia moans loudly in pleasure and squirts. Her juices cover my thighs, my abs and goes all over the carpenter under us.

Lia moans and digs her nails in my back as she cums all over my dick, I smirk as she cums on my dick.

I moan and slam down on my dick, Lia gasps and moans, I moan as I feel that all to familiar feeling in my balls.

"I'm close baby. I'm gonna cum." I moan in pleasure.

"Mmm give it to me." Lia moans in pleasure.

Creampie #2:

I moan in pleasure, I slam her down on my dick and bust my load deep inside her. Lia moans and digs her nails into my back.

"Ah yes. I love your cum flooding in me." Lia cutely moans.

I moan and slowly thrust back and forth as I continue to unload my load deep inside her pussy. Lia moans and cums again, I help Lia ride out her high. I moan we both come down from our highs.

I slowly pull out of her. Cum immediately oozes out of her pussy and coats her folds, and drips down her thighs and onto the floor.

"Mmm there's so much." Lia moans.

I smirk. "I'm not done with you just yet baby." I say.

I lay on the bed, I motion her over. I have her turn her back to me, her back touches my tits. I line my dick up with her pussy and slowly sink her down on my dick, I spread her legs with my feet.

"Mmmm." Lia moans as I'm back deep inside her cum filled pussy.

I moan and grab her hips. I slowly slide up and down in and out of her pussy.

Lia moans she leans back. I look at her and moan as I thrust in and out of her tight cum filled pussy.

"Mmmm so fucking good." Lia moans.

"Mmm I'm gonna drain my balls in you." I sexily growl.

"Mmm please daddy give me your cum." Lia moans in pleasure.

I hold her hips and bottom out her pussy faster and harder.

"Oh fuck fuck fuck." Lia moans she squirts like a fountain. Her juices coat my thighs and stain the sheets.

"Mmm fuck." I moan in pleasure and keeps going.

My balls slap against her skin as our moans fill the room. The tv continues to play in the background.

I moan and bottom in and out of her pussy faster and harder pounding her g spot. Lia moans, she wraps her arms around my shoulder and grips my shoulder and grips the sheets with her other hand.

We both moan. I moan loudly in pleasure as I feel myself getting closer and closer to cumming. I feel Lia’s walls clench around my dick letting me know that she was also close.

"I'm cumming, I'm cumming." Lia moans. She throws her head back and cums all over my dick and squirts like crazy again.

Creampie #3:

I can't take it anymore. Lia cumming sends me over the edge. I unload my massive load deep inside her. Lia gasps and moans as my cum floods inside her pussy.

"Mmm fuck." Lia moans. Her legs shake and buckle in pleasure as I fill her up with my cum.

I moan and slowly thrust in and out of her as I continue to unload my massive load deep inside her. Lia moans and pants, some of my cum pours out of her and drips down my dick and onto the sheets.

I moan and wrap my arm around her as I continue to come. I help Lia ride out her high. Once we both come down from ours highs, I slowly lift her up and pull out.

She doesn't even bother to hold the cum in her pussy. Cum oozes out and drips down her thighs and drips onto my abs, dick and stains the sheets.

We bath lay there in bed panting and trying to catch our breathes. I grab the remote and turn off the tv, I grab the blankets and pull the blankets over us. I cuddle her, I smile and kiss her deeply. She smiles against my lips and kisses back.

"Was that a good birthday present?" Lia asks giggling a bit.

"Mmm that was the best one yet." I reply.

We cuddle and end up falling asleep.

[satinsummer]

Chapter 3: The Morning After

Summary: Sam wakes up alone in Y/N'S bed before she had a chance to process anything the door is slowly opening as Y/N slips back into the room. Did she regret last night?

Pairings: G!PReader x Fem!SamCarpente & Fem!Y/BF/N x Fem!Tara Carpneter

Chapter 4: https://www.tumblr.com/satinsummer/761208076522127360/chapter-4-what-do-i-wear

Warnings: Suggestive Language, Drug Use (smoking weed), Fluff

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Nobody's Pov:

As Sam stirred awake while memories of last night began flashing behind her eyelids. Moving a little further back in the bed, thinking she'd be met with another warm body instead the space beside her was empty, almost cold like the girl had been hours ahead of Sam. What time was it? How long had she slept? Reaching out for her phone on the nightstand beside her and checking the time it read "8:36am" Way too early for Tara or Y/BF/N to be awake the older girl started to wonder where you had run off to. It was almost like Y/N could hear Sam's thoughts as she reentered her room closing the door gently with her foot, two mugs and another serving tray in hand. Her clothes were changed too; and Sam felt caught herself thinking about last night all over again.

(outfit ref.)

Approaching the bed and very carefully handing Sam one of the mugs on the tray Y/N took a good look at the girl in her bed, wearing her shirt and she couldn't stop the smile that took over her face. "Good morning Sam" Y/N rasps out, voice still thick with sleep. Sam's heart fluttered never had she thought waking up in Y/N's bed would feel so natural between the two of them. "Good morning..Do you want to talk about last night" Sam hesitantly says, while forcing her eyes down on the mug in her hands like it was the most interesting thing in the room.

"Look at me" Y/N requests after shuffling around the bed, kneeling before the older girl. Lifting her eyes from the mug Sam watches Y/N speak, eyes searching for a hint of deception or dishonesty the whole time. "If you think I regret what happened last night you are sorely mistaken." Mid sentence Y/N grabs Sam's hand placing it on her chest right above her heart. "Do you feel that? That's what you do to me Samantha" Y/N whispers leaning in. Sharing a smile as their noses brush up against each other Sam takes it upon herself to close the gap between them. It's a short kiss but still sweet nonetheless. "You should try your coffee and eat before it gets cold" Y/N says after pulling away only to kiss the girl once more before getting up.

Removing the steal dome from the tray Y/N placed over Sam's lap, a small buffet sits in front of her. Pancakes, fruit, hash browns, eggs, bacon and toast fill the plate in front of her, surrounding by smaller dishes some had pastries and the others filled with jams & jellies, butter and maple syrup? There was also a cup of apple and orange juice. Always giving her options, never forcing decisions. Sam truly couldn't believe the girl standing above her, hands clasped behind her back awaiting Sam's approval.

"You made ALL this..for me?" Sam asks staring down at the assortment that was so graciously provided to her. "Yeah, just for you.. I left some in the fridge for everybody else but this is just for you, Sammy" Y/N says making her way over to her desk as Sam begins to dig in. "So what about us going on a dat-" "Yeessss" Sam moans out loud, eye rolling back as she tastes the food in front of her. "That good, huh?" Y/N smirks. The food is too good for Sam to be embarrassed "Yes, to the date as long as YOU are not cooking but actually sitting and entertaining me. I want to know more about you" Sam says still eating her food. "I know a good place, it's Pan-Asain restaurant over in Phi-" "I KNEW IT" Tara interrupts as the door swings open. "Sorry about that folks, continue on. Y/N/N, we are so talking about this later" Y/BF/N says looking between her best friend and her girlfriends older sister.

"Back to that date, Does tomorrow tonight at 8 work?" Y/N says turning her attention back to Sam. "Sounds great" the older girl says while walking over to Y/N and pressing a kiss to her lips. Sam's lips are naturally sweet and slightly sticky but Y/N just couldn't get enough. She tastes so good, Y/N wondered what else on her tasted good. But not wanting to get too carried away Sam pulled back and put some distance between the two of them. Turing on her feet and making herself comfy in Y/N's bed again to finish eating as she did so Y/N turned on the TV, offering the remote to Sam who easily reached out and took it. Scrolling through Y/N's streaming options she picks a true crime show on Netflix called "American Murder: Laci Peterson."

"I love true crime, this was a great pick" Y/N says getting comfortable in the leather chair just across from her bed. Sam eyes her questioningly "Is that chair as comfortable as you look?" She asks tilting her head with a small smile. "Super comfy" the other girl responds reaching up to a random place on the bookshelf and pulling down a pair of glasses, putting them on and turning her attention back to the show playing.

After a few episodes and a small nap after eating enough for two, Sam found herself not wanting to but having to leave the younger girl as they parted ways for work. "I can always stop by after the dinner service tonight? Hopefully I can be out by 1-130AM" Y/N says leaning against the door frame while checking her watch. She was now dressed in her Chefs Coat, hair pulled back and tattoos covered. Yet she still looked and smelled AMAZING. Throwing her arms around Y/'s neck, Sam pulled her into a heated kiss that was nothing but lips, tongue and teeth. Stunning the younger girl and poking her softly in the chest, Sam whispers "Come over after" All Y/N can do is nod, checking her watch again and suddenly she's pressing a quick kiss to Sam's lips, before she takes off running down the hall and out of the building.

8hrs Later, 7:45pm

Sam is trudging up the steps to her and Tara's shared apartment. Opening the door and making sure to lock it behind her, she hears laughter coming from the living room. Making her way over, Y/BF/N, the twins, Akina plus her sister have set up shop in the living room for an impromptu "Game Night" She didn't have it in her to kick them out, giving them a stern "Don't break the coffee table again Y/BF/N and Mindy" before walking out of the living room and into her room to get ready for a long and well deserved shower. She wondered how Y/N was doing, the girls ironically forgot or never really got around to exchanging numbers. It was a overlooked step that drove both of them crazy. Until Sam's phone dinged, picking it up and seeing it was an unknown number who texted her. She decided to click open the message hoping it was you, sure enough it was.

Text Convo Between Y/N & Sam:

+1 212-356-9122: "I hope work wasn't too hard on you. I'll be sending dinner over in an hour -Y/N🕷️"

A second message follows the first

Y/N💕: "Also I had to bribe Tara for your number, she drives a hard bargain😭. There is dessert in the bag for you both"

Sam: "Thank you, how much do i owe you?"

Y/N💕: "Our date tomorrow is a great form of payment, but seriously you owe me nothing. I know you're probably tired from today so I just wanted to make it easy on you..plus it's my cooking"

Sam: "Thank you Y/N..that's so thoughtful"

Y/N💕: "Of course. Would you like me to have it sent now? You say the word and it's on the way"

Sam: "Yes, please. Tara is currently whining about how hungry she is through my door like a cat"

Y/N💕: "Sent, Should arrive in 20. I'll text you when I'm headed out. Enjoy dinner!"

(Sam Loved Y/N message )

Sam: "Don't work too hard!"

(Y/N loved Sam's message )

Y/N ran dinner service like a pro, no dropped plates, everything came out on time and the communication in the kitchen tonight was perfect. After hiding in the bathroom for bit and texting with Sam again, Y/N made her way back into the kitchen where Head Chef Philippe greeted her with a small pat on the shoulder.

Taking her under his wing when his signature restaurant "Philippe" opened a second location in NYC was the best decision he'd ever made. Y/N was quick, headstrong, never too cocky or confident but always looking to be better if not the best, he admired that about the young girl. She perfected almost all the dishes he had on the menu in a single weekend. She was a natural. "Why don't you get out of here for the night, kid" Chef said "I can't leave you after the dinner rush, we still have to prep for tom-" "I'm sure Y/N/N, I have enough hands here to help. You aren't on tomorrow so don't worry about prep. Now go, go have some fun. Get a drink, be young! You worked hard tonight" He says motioning towards the exit with his free hand. "Alright, Call me if you need me. I appreciate you Phi" The young girl responds running over to hug her Head Chef.

Just like earlier Y/N is running out of the building and to her car but this time she's going back to Sam instead of work. Y/N couldn't be happier. Hopping in her car and sending a quick "Got off early, gonna shower and head over. If that's cool?" text, she anxiously awaits her response to which comes through in the minute it was sent.

Sammy🖤: "that's more than fine, I may be asleep when you get here but I can leave my door open for you? Dinner was amazing by the way💕"

Y/N: "Take your nap. I won't disturb you unless you want me to, and I'm happy you enjoyed it"

Sammy🖤: "Disturb me"

Y/N: 🤭

Around 1 hour later

A knock at the door interrupts the intense UNO match between Chad and Y/BF/N. "I'll get it" Mindy calls out, shuffling towards the front door. On the other side she's met with Y/N's relaxed sate and hazy eyes. "Hey Minds" She says pulling her into a hug and following her into the apartment after closing the door. "Look what the cat dragged in" She chuckles at the others as you both enter the living room. "Oh great, Y/N/N help me whoop his ass" Y/BF/N says handing the other girl her cards. Several curse words and draw 4s later Chad was pouting like a small child who got their favorite toy taken and Y/N was happy to put that look on his face. He always talked the most shit during game nights but Y/N somehow always washed him in UNO.

Afterwards Y/N slipped out of the living room undetected and went on her search for Sam's room. The second she hit the dark hallway, she was pulled into a room too fast for her to comprehend. Once she gains her bearings she see's that it's Sam who has taken her hostage in her room (not that she's complaining) "I was just coming to disturb you" Y/N whispered into Sam's hair having now pulled the older girl into her arms still standing against the closed door. "Yeah, well I beat you to it" Sam retorts. Leading Y/N to her bed, Sam climbs in on one side and settles in and looking at Y/N to follow suit. "Lock the door and come here" Sam says and Y/N says nothing in response, simply honoring her request and removing your hoodie and sweats (Y/N has satin shorts on underneath) Who wants outdoor clothes in/on their bed? Surely not Sam. "Is this okay or pants back o-" "It's okay" Sam reassures, patting the empty space next to her.

"Want to continue that show from earlier" Sam inquires. "I thought you'd never ask" Y/N replies, snuggling up to the older girl. With Y/N's head on her chest, TV show playing and the girls arms around her. Sam felt like all was right within the world. She didn't know how she got so lucky, nor would she question it. She just wanted to experience whatever it was Y/N were making her feel every single day. She hoped Y/N felt the same.

The two girls had eventually fallen asleep after many shared kisses and hesitant touches, Sam made Y/N promise not to leave her bed empty in the morning. She wanted to wake up in still wrapped in her arms. Sam was just selfish like that, could anybody blame her for it though? While pulling Sam closer to her Y/N placed a kiss to the back of her head and let sleep take over your body not before reminding sam of how much you looked forward to your upcoming date the following day. "I know, I can't wait either baby" Sam replies.

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AN: How are feeling about chapter 3? Chapter 4 will the date and maybe a little fluff before the smut

Lmk what you guys think! Chapter 4 might be out later on today as well!

[thebrothel]

No worries if ur not doing povs anymore buuuuut

Muehehehehe

POV

Joel’s real sweet with you. Obsessed, but in a sweet way. And for Tommy, it sure is nice getting to share you. For New Year’s, the three of you dressed up for a nice dinner in the dining room and toasted with a special bottle left behind by Bill and Frank. Tommy did the dishes while you and Joel went to sit in the living room. As Tommy approached, Joel was kneeling at your feet asking, “wanna get this big fancy dress off? Put on somethin’ more comfy?”

“Not really,” you said, making Tommy pause in his tracks. He was already getting hard thinking about what awaited, but maybe you weren’t feeling it. “It’s the only time we dress up,” you continued, and Tommy smiled to himself. You were cute. 

“Oh, darlin’. . .” Joel chuckled, then buried his face in the skirt of your dress with a groan in mock devastation. Tommy walked behind the sofa and began to massage your shoulders. “Feelin’ okay?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” you whispered.

“Good,” Tommy murmured. “Look so beautiful. . .” Tommy began to caress your neck as Joel gathered the skirt of your dress and lifted it out of the way. Tommy nosed, then kissed the other side of your neck and slid a hand down. “Mm,” he softly grunted as his hand met the border where your breast spilled over the rigid bodice. God damn, Tommy wanted to knock you up so bad. You’d be so fuckin’ pretty, tits swollen as hell. Mmm. It’s too easy to imagine. Tommy heard a muffled moan, looked down, and Joel was under the skirt of the dress. He’s so crazy about you, he’d probably live under your dress if he could. 

Tommy imagined you in a different dress, one that was fitted only on the chest. Your tits, all swollen with milk, they’d barely be containable. He kept running his hand along the top hem of your dress, feeling how they overflowed. Was there a chance you were pregnant already? Surely Joel would’ve told him, but the thought made Tommy get painfully hard. 

Tommy pressed his bulge against the back of the sofa and used both hands to caress your breasts. You moaned softly and took a deep breath, making your breasts spill over even more, revealing a little nipple. God, wouldn’t you be sexy in a maternity dress, something that cinched under your swollen tits and flowed out over your round, heavy belly? Tommy felt like he might die if he never got to see you that way. 

“Uncle Tommy?” you asked

“Yeah, sugar?” he murmured. 

“It’s too tight up here,” you whined, running your own hand across your chest. 

“Ohh I know, baby.” 

Joel moaned into your pussy, head still under the skirt, and you sighed with his mouth between your legs. 

“Can you fix it?” you asked. 

God, yeah, Tommy could fix it. Still behind the sofa, he reached down to your chest and rested his head softly against yours as he began to unfasten the little hooks, one by one. And millimeter by millimeter, your breasts expanded, free of the rigid barrier. 

“Fuck,” tommy whispered. 

“What?” you asked. 

He lowered his mouth to your ear and whispered, “Just real, real pretty, baby.” 

After unfastening enough of the hooks, Tommy wedged a hand in and cupped a breast. He could have sworn your tits had grown. He’d have to get you out of this torture device so he could see it all. 

It felt like an emergency to get this thing off you. He undid a few more hooks, and palmed himself as he finished the rest one-handed, breathing heavily. When the whole corset was open, it fell away from your body, and you sighed in relief as your hands came to cradle your tits, leaning back into the sofa. 

“Ohh,” you groaned. “So much better. . .Mmm.” You looked up at him. “Thanks, Uncle Tommy.”

This is when he should have bent down and kissed you, but Tommy’s body reacted too strongly. Everything down there tightened, and he shuddered, then began to pulse right in his pants. He held a hand against his crotch and closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. He felt warmth spread through his boxers when he should’ve pumped allll that cum into you. 

----

Thank you so much for reading!

Same guys:

Stuffing

Sweet little messj

[crazerk]

Just wanted to share a snippet from the update. I’m experimenting with POV switches and it’s kinda long cause I don’t know how to not ramble even if there was a gun pointed at my head.

It’s still unfinished, and unpolished as I’ll be adding character specific details and editing and whatnot later, or maybe cutting the entire scene altogether. But anyway please enjoy :)

Also it contains some SPOILERS.

Valide Zarayan reclined on plush silk cushions, her eyes scanning the crowd with razor-sharp focus. To the casual observer, she appeared the picture of regal serenity - her elaborately coiffed hair adorned with glittering jewels, her gown a masterpiece of embroidery and precious stones. But beneath that placid exterior, a storm brewed.

Her gaze inevitably returned to her son, seated at the head of the gathering. He was resplendent in robes of deep sapphire blue, the imperial crown glinting atop his dark curls. He looked like his father in certain lights, the same firm set to his jaw, the same commanding presence.

Yet something in his bearing gave her pause. There was a tightness around his eyes, a slight tension in the set of his shoulders that only a mother would notice.

"More wine, Your Majesty?" A servant approached, crystal decanter in hand.

Khazunef nodded absently, barely glancing at the man as his goblet was refilled. His eyes remained fixed on the troupe of performers twirling before him - acrobats and fire-eaters whose daring flips drew gasps of awe from the assembled courtiers. But Zarayan could see that her son's applause was courteous at best, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.

She leaned in close, pitching her voice low. "Is something troubling you, my son? You seem... distracted."

Khazunef's gaze flickered to her briefly before returning to the spectacle before them. "Not at all, mother. The feast is magnificent, as always. You've outdone yourself."

His tone was polite, but there was an underlying coolness that made Zarayan's heart clench. Gone was the bright-eyed boy who had once delighted in such pageantry. In his place sat a man burdened by the weight of an empire.

"The High Priest has predicted favorable omens," Khazunef continued, a hint of genuine relief coloring his words. "And I've received word that the drought in the Western provinces is finally abating."

Zarayan seized the opportunity, raising her voice just enough to be overheard by the nearby nobles. "How delightful. It seems the gods themselves smile upon your reign, my son. Truly, you bring peace and prosperity to our people."

A chorus of sycophantic agreement rose from the surrounding courtiers. Goblets were raised in toast to their young Shah's wisdom and benevolence. Khazunef acknowledged them with a regal nod, but Zarayan could see the way his fingers tightened imperceptibly around the stem of his cup.

She waited for the murmur of conversation to rise once more before leaning in close, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. "Perhaps this bounty is a sign, my dear. The perfect time to think about securing the future of our dynasty. A family of your own..."

The change was instant. Khazunef's posture stiffened, his jaw clenching as he took a long pull of wine. When he finally spoke, his words were clipped. "The empire's needs are many, mother. My personal affairs can wait."

Zarayan felt a familiar surge of frustration, then anger. Did he not understand the precariousness of their position? The blood that had been spilled to place him on that throne? She wanted to shake him, to make him see reason. But instead she merely inclined her head, a placid smile masking the turmoil within.

"Of course, my son. I only wish for your happiness and the continued strength of our bloodline."

Khazunef waved a dismissive hand. "This is a celebration. I'll hear no more of it."

Zarayan stifled a sigh, biting back a sharp retort. He was as stubborn as ever. She nearly forgot how much he acted like his father as well. She would simply have to find another way to make him see reason.

For now, she would allow him his reprieve. She settled back against the cushions, her smile fixed in place even as her mind raced.

Her thoughts drifted to the past, to a laughing boy with curious eyes who would pepper her with endless questions about the world. Her sweet, happy boy who’s joy she took solace in.

That boy was gone now, replaced by this distant man who wore the crown like a millstone. Zarayan knew the cruelties of court life had shaped him, hardened him. The incident with his brothers – a necessary evil, she reminded herself – had left scars deeper than she had anticipated.

It had to be done, she thought, pushing down the flicker of regret.

If only her son would see that.

A figure in richly embroidered robes approached, bowing low before the royal dais.

"Your Imperial Majesty! Your most gracious Valide!" The man's voice dripped with honeyed flattery. "What a magnificent celebration! Truly, the Sharazad court outshines all others in its splendor."

Zarayan recognized him as Vizier Mahmus, an ambitious climber whose family had only recently risen to prominence. She watched as Khazunef's demeanor shifted, the mask of the implacable ruler sliding seamlessly into place.

"We are pleased you find it to your liking, Vizier," Khazunef replied, his tone coolly cordial. "Tell me, how fare the trade negotiations with the merchant guild?"

As the two men fell into discussion of matters of state, Zarayan allowed her attention to drift.

A peal of silvery laughter caught her ear, and she turned to see Empress Yaris holding court amidst a cluster of fawning noblemen. The woman was undeniably beautiful, her pale skin luminous in the lantern light, her auburn hair adorned with emeralds and gold. But it was the man at her side that made Zarayan's eyes narrow dangerously.

Parvis, Khazunef's uncle, leaned in close to whisper something in Yaris' ear. The Empress' eyes danced with mirth, and she placed a hand on his arm in a gesture that was far too familiar for Zarayan's liking.

The fool did not pull away, no. Parvis placed a possessive hand on the small of Yaris' back, his touch lingering a fraction too long. Zarayan's lip curled in disgust

Parvis had long been a thorn in her side, his influence over her son growing with each passing day. With Khazunef's reluctance to sire an heir, Parvis' ambitions were clear. The man was a snake, and his ambition would be their downfall if left unchecked.

She turned back to her son, who had finally extricated himself from the Vizier's obsequious chatter. "Khazunef," she murmured, careful to keep her voice low. "Perhaps it is time you reminded your wife of the proper decorum expected of an Empress. Her behavior with your uncle is... unseemly."

Khazunef followed her gaze, his expression hardening as he took in the intimate scene. But to Zarayan's surprise, a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth

"You think my uncle has designs on my wife?" he asked, an odd note of amusement in his tone.

"Perhaps not," Zarayan huffed. "But it is unseemly, regardless." 

Khazunef seemed unconcerned, taking another sip of his wine. "Perhaps," he murmured. "But I would not interfere. See how they amuse one another? It keeps them out of my way."

The casual dismissal stung Zarayan more deeply than she cared to admit, as well as the complacency of her son. They were not simply amusing each other. They could be planning his death while he sat there, unconcerned. It seemed that her son had blinders when it came to his personal affairs. 

She could not stop the words that escaped her lips, sharp as a dagger's edge. "Do you think a capable ruler would neglect the state of his own household? How can you hope to govern an empire when you allow such blatant disrespect under your own roof?"

Her son froze, his eyes narrowing dangerously. In the dim light he looked like his father again, matching scowls and all. For the briefest of moments Zarayan was Celaena again, in the presence of her tempestuous husband who was about to strike her. 

But her son did not strike her. Instead he took a slow, measured breath. The resemblance to his father faded as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a mask of imperial calm. When he spoke, his voice was low and controlled, but edged with steel.

"Mother," he said, leaning in close to ensure their conversation remained private, "I appreciate your concern, misplaced as it is. But I will not discuss this matter further, especially not here." His eyes flicked meaningfully towards the nearby courtiers. "I suggest you retire for the evening if you cannot maintain proper decorum."

He straightened in his seat, adjusting his robes with practiced nonchalance.

Zarayan bit back the words that rose in her throat, her mind racing. How could she make him understand? His personal affairs were the concern of the entire empire when it came to his lack of heirs. 

She opened her mouth to speak when a familiar figure materialized at her elbow.

"Your Majesty, most esteemed Valide," Orgion, the Chief Eunuch, bowed low. "The new concubines are ready to be presented, as you requested."

Zarayan saw the anger still simmering Khazunef's eyes, his jaw tightening as he glared at Orgion.

"I do not recall making such a request, Chief Eunuch."

Zarayan seized the opportunity to change the subject, forcing lightness into her tone. "Ah yes, how forgetful of me. Khazunef, I hope you don't mind that I've taken this liberty. Your harem is still rather... sparse for a man of your station."

She watched her son carefully, noting the way his jaw clenched again at the reminder of his neglected duties. But he said nothing, merely taking another sip of wine. She gestured for Orgion to continue.

The portly eunuch beamed, practically vibrating with excitement. "Oh, Your Majesty, you will be most pleased! Such beauty, such grace - truly, they are jewels fit for an emperor's crown!"

Khazunef's cool gaze settled on Orgion, and the man's effusive praise died in his throat. He stammered to a halt, mopping his brow nervously.

"If you are quite finished, show me these marvelous women, that we might continue our feast."

Orgion bowed so low he nearly toppled over, then scurried away to make the necessary arrangements. Zarayan allowed herself a small smile of triumph, sending a silent prayer to the gods that this would be the catalyst needed to spark her son's interest in matters of the harem.

[thoughtswordsandnonsense]

Hot Blooded

This is a continuation of a previous fanfic I wrote called Desire. 18 + content ahead, please do not interact if you're a minor. If you haven't read Desire yet I do recommend reading it first so some gaps are filled in.

Violet’s Pov:

Sun shines through the window as I wake, casting a warm glow to the room. Reaching across the bed I come up empty, cool sheets touch my flaming skin. Sweat forms all over my body as I let out a groan of frustration, the dampness between my legs has me aching with need. The sheet covering my body only adds to the overheating of my body so I kick them off.

 Pleasure sparks through me so fast it has my toes and fingers curling into Xaden’s sheets. I gasp a tagged breath as it dissipates as fast as it came. 

“Where are you?” I beg down the bond to Xaden, 

“I didn’t think you’d be awake yet, I stepped out to explain our absence for the next few days. Devera was a bit smug about it, she told me to tell you and I quote ‘Have fun, don’t add to the population’ “ He trails off with a chuckle and I groan, scraping my face with my hands as I roll over and shove my face into the pillow. 

“I’m gonna throw myself out the window,” I whine down the bond and he only responds with a laugh. 

“Please don’t,” Is the only response he gives as I lay there sweating and dizzy. His scent of mint and citrus wafts up from his pillow and into my nose. 

The door creaking open has me turning my head to look at Xaden who looks perfectly fine as he strides in with a tray. He’s wearing grey sweatpants that leave little to the imagination and a tight black t-shirt covers his chest. His muscles are fully on display as his onyx eyes look down at me, accessing my body as he sets down the tray on his nightstand. “How are you feeling?” He asks quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed as he looks down at me. 

A tender hand brushes my hair out of my face, his skin hot against my own. “Like I’m wearing winter clothes in the middle of summer.” I whimper as I lean into his touch, it’s not nearly enough to stop the aching but for the moment it will do. “That’ll go away soon enough,” He comments softly. 

“You need to eat,” He demands quietly, his eyes searching mine for any kind of protest. My stomach grumbles as I tear my gaze away from him to look over at the tray. There’s fruit, toast, two large clear cups filled with water, and a bowl that I can’t see into. 

“I could’ve gotten it myself, I’m not that delirious with need.” I look back at him as he rolls his eyes at me. “You could just say thank you, ya know?” It’s my turn to roll my eyes as he shifts away from me, turning himself to face the tray as I sit upright with my back against the headboard. “Thank you,” I grumble and shift to make room for him. He hands me a piece of toast and I take it from him, taking small bites as we eat in silence. 

I’m the first to break the silence once I finish my slice of toast. “So, dragons have heats?” I ask as he finishes his slice of toast. “To my understanding only mated pairs do.” He answers and I nod my head. “So this has happened to you before?” I ask and he sighs, running his hands through his devilish black hair. “Once, in my first year.” His answer is short as he looks down at me, even with both of us sitting he’s taller than me. Every fibre of my being is making me want to climb into his lap as he shifts his legs a bit wider as he stays seated on the edge of the bed. “Did you know what was happening?” I ask tentatively. 

“I pieced it together eventually, can we not talk about this?” He begs as a blush covers his cheeks and nose. “Fine, I’ll drop it for now.” I move quickly from my position to being in his lap, my legs on either side of his waist as his thick arms wrap around me. His warm hands rest on my ass cheeks as I loop my arms around his neck, pulling him close to me as I look at him.

There’s a thin sheen of sweat at the top of his forehead, his pupils are full-blown as his lips part in a gasp as I drag myself over his clothed cock. Pleasure sparks throughout my body and I mewl in his hold, my fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck. His chest heaves as he looks down at me, his hands tighten their hold on my ass as we both get hit full force with pleasure from our dragons. 

“Touch me, please,” I beg and he smirks as he drops a kiss to my forehead. 

“I’ll worship you thoroughly in a moment, just - let me hold you for a second.” He pants against me, his breath that smells like mint fans over my face. His touch sends sparks throughout my body as he holds me against him, he’s entirely too clothed for my liking.

 My hands trail from his neck, down his spine and to the bottom of his shirt where I drag the fabric up, exposing his toned torso. “Desperate to get me naked again Violence?” He pants as he pulls back, I wrap my legs around his waist as he lets go of my ass, quick to take over. 

Grabbing the back of his shirt he drags the dark fabric agonizingly slow over his tawny skin. My fingers trail over the dark hair that starts at the bottom of his abdomen and goes up the defined muscle that tones his stomach.

Tracing the newly exposed skin, he shucks his shirt off and throws it across the room. His body shudders under my touch as he looks down and grabs my hand as my fingers move to trace his collarbones. “I said I was worshipping you, Violet. Not the other way around.” His voice is stern and commanding, I shift in his lap creating delicious friction that has me gasping and throwing my head back.

“That’s it.” His gruff voice rings out and faster than I can comprehend I’m underneath him, the bed against my back as he hovers over me. He’s quick to get my hands and pin them above my head, the rest of my body unable to move as he pins me down with the weight of his own body. My legs dangle over the edge of the bed as we both take a handful of shuddering breaths. “If you try to move your hands I’ll tie them to the headboard.” He threatens, need pangs through my body as I feel wetness pool in between my legs. “Okay.” I squeak as he moves. 

He kneels on the floor as he spreads me wide, dragging my ass closer to the edge of the bed as he stares up at me hungrily. “Be a good girl and don’t move your hands.” He says huskily before moving down, his lips quickly attach to my clit and suck against it, his broad shoulders keep me spread out for him as my body arches against him. I whine loudly as he sucks on my clit, pleasure scorching through my body.

One of his arms move and I feel pressure at my entrance as he teases the outside of it, only slightly pressing in before backing away. His ministrations continue like that for a few moments before I’m begging and writhing against him. “Please, fuck, please I can’t. Stop teasing.” I beg and he chuckles the vibrations hit my clit and I shriek as he sinks a finger into me. The aching needy feeling comes back in full force as he slowly fucks his finger in and out, curling it up to hit the right spot.

My hands clench tightly into the tangled bed sheets as I fight the urge to lace them through his hair. The pressure changes from slight to fuller as he adds a second finger into the mix. Sucking more harshly against my clit and I cry out, it doesn’t take long to come undone. I let out a scream of pleasure as he takes his fingers out of me and replaced them with his tongue. Lapping up all of it as spots dance throughout my vision, his eyes gleaming with delight as I come down, his tongue slowing down as he pulls back. 

My cum glistens off of his chin and he’s quick to stick his tongue out to clean it up, using the back of his hand to wipe up what his tongue couldn’t reach. “Please, let me touch you,” I beg and he smirks at me. “No.” His hand moves back as his two fingers slide inside again, he looks down at me like a man starved as he slowly fucks his fingers in and out. “Can you take more? I don’t want to hurt you?” He asks breathly and I nod my head yes. “Please.” I whimper and he smiles at me, adding a third finger to the mix has me feeling delightfully full.

They curl up and I cry out as he watches my reactions intently. He palms himself over his joggers as he finger fucks me. “You’re doing so good for me, I’m so proud of you Violet. Being such a good girl.” I mewl under his praise, if it weren't for the current circumstances I’d say something snarky to retaliate.

His pace speeds up as my legs shake, the pressure building up quickly as he brings me close to another orgasm. His thumb touches my clit, applying enough pressure that I’m crying out again. My hands move from the sheets to his wrist as I gush around his fingers. My nails bite into his skin as I come undone with a scream. “Fuck please, fuck Xaden. It’s too much.” I whine and he stops. Looking from my face to my hand that’s wrapped around his wrist. 

“Do you need me to stop?” He asks as he takes his hands off of me completely. “No, fuck it’s just so much. God, I feel like I’m on fire.” I whine and he smirks “Good, if you need me to stop I will at any moment but right now I’m glad you want more.” He grounds out the last bit as he moves his hand to wrap around the wrist of the hand I grabbed him with. 

“Now I do believe I gave you a simple order Cadet.” He says menacingly, staring down at me like a predator that just caught their prey. “What did I tell you to do?” He questions lowly and I smirk down at him, “Not move my hands.” I respond “And what did you do?” His gaze flicks from my hand to my face. “Moved my hands,” I answer and he pounces, dragging my body to the top of the bed where he pins both wrists, he grabs something from his nightstand and quickly has my wrists pressed together and a soft tan rope is wrapped around them.

Tight enough that I probably can’t get my hands out but not tight enough to cut off circulation. My hands are above my head as he ties the other end to one of the planks underneath the mattress. He tugs a tug at it before letting go and smirking down at me. “Can’t follow simple orders.” He tuts as my thighs rub together. One of his shadows falls from his hands, ghosting over my stomach and breasts, the cool sensation causing goosebumps to rise on my skin. 

He backs up and moves off the bed as his shadows dance softly over my skin. His cock is tented up in his jogging pants and it has me salivating at the thought of him fucking me with it. He palms it and I feel my skin flush at being caught.

“You’re just a cock hungry slut aren’t you?” He questions as he leans against the desk on the other side of the bed. “Fuck you, no I’m not.” He laughs darkly as I feel a harsh pinch on my nipples, my back arches as I yelp. Pain and pleasure cursing through me as he watches. “Try again,” He comments lazily as he shucks off his pants, his thick veiny cock springing free. His hand pumps lazy strokes as he watches me intently.

The shadow dances down my abdomen and settles over my clit, adding pressure and coolness that has me writhing against the restraints. “Fuck you’re too full of yourself.” I bite out and a sharp tug on my clit has me crying out. “Fine, fuck yes, but only for you.” I groan and the sharp tug stops, going back to a deliriously good pressure that has my legs shaking.

Gasps leave my mouth as I feel the pressure build higher and higher, my toes curling into the bed as the shadows begin mimicking the sucking motion he was doing to me earlier. “I don’t even have to touch you to have you coming undone.” His voice is hoarse as his cock twitches in his hand. “Cum for me Violet, please.” I shatter as my vision darkens and my ears ring, my body convulsing as his shadows cease. 

He crosses the room in a couple of quick strides, undoing my restraints as he kisses me, warm lips meet mine as he nips at my bottom lip. My body tingles and feels floaty as I pull back from him. Taking a few gulps of air as he scooches me over, sitting on the bed and pulling me next to him. My head is on his chest as he holds me close to him, one hand circles around my waist and the other rubs soothingly up and down my back.

The room spins as I come to my senses and it takes me a moment to realize my body is vibrating with the aftershocks of my orgasm. “You did so well for me, good girl. Take all the time you need.” He says softly and after a few moments, my body calms down. One of my arms is under his head and my other rests on his stomach.

Need pangs through my exhausted body as my legs drape over his, I whine into his chest as the need builds up again. My heart goes alarmingly fast as I writhe. “Fuck, Xaden, make it stop.” I plead and he kisses my forehead reassuringly. “I can make it go away for a little but we’re not in the clear for the next day or so,” I whine at his words, my body over-stimulated and hypersensitive.

“Please, fuck I can’t. It’s so overwhelming.” I sob and he shushes me with a soft kiss, his lips move against mine as tears fall from my eyes. His hand moves from my back to my face, wiping away stray tears as he kisses me tenderly, my jaw cupped in his hand.

 I pull back as another pang hits me even harder, yelping at the pressure and need. Xaden’s worried eyes find mine, “I can make it stop Violet but I don’t know if you can take more.” He whispers and I whine in his hold, “Fuck, please don’t leave me like this.” I plead, more tears falling from my eyes, and for the first time this morning, I can hear the strikes of lighting and thunder pounding relentlessly outside. 

My skin feels like someone threw me into dragon fire as I writhe in Xaden’s hold. “Violet, I need you to calm down, you’re going to hit burnout if you keep going.” His voice is urgent as he forced me to look him in the eyes. “Please, fuck I can’t take this.” I’m breathless as he searches my face for any sign of hesitancy. “Violet, take a few deep breaths, you’re okay. Can my good girl do that? Take a couple of deep breaths and then I’ll keep going if you want me to.” His voice is deep and calm as I take stuttering breaths, he encourages me to take more as I feel my body become less tense. “That a girl, you’re doing so good for me.” He reassures me as my heart rate comes down, my body warm but no longer burning. “I can take it, please. I need you.” I mewl and he nods his head.

 “Hands on the headboard.” He demands and I’m quick to move, hands clenching against the headboard as he moves behind me. His cock trailing up and down my folds before sinking agonizingly slow into me. His hands are on my waist, helping hold me upright as he pushes his cock in. Inch by inch he stretches me out and I’m so deliriously full. His fingers are no match for his cock in how they stretch me.

We’re both breathing raggedly as he sinks himself fully into me. “Move,” I whine and he complies, snapping his hips in a way that has his cock dragging against my g-spot in every thrust, one of his hands snakes around to my breasts and tweaks my nipple as the other moves to my clit to rub it. Each thrust has me feeling him deeper and deeper, and there’s no doubt in my mind that I won’t be able to walk after this. “Such a good girl, take my cock so fucking well.” Xaden rasps and I moan, my hands clenching tightly onto the headboard as his shadows snake around my body.

Xaden’s hand falls from my breast and is quickly replaced by cool shadows that pinch and twist my nipples. I shudder around Xaden, my body tightening as I cum again. A harsh slap to my ass has me yelping and lurching forward, a hoarse moan falling from my parched lips as he fucks me. “Fuck go harder,” I beg and he stills for a moment.

“Are you sure?” He asks me softly, leaning over me and moving my hair from one side of my neck to the other, leaving small kisses as his cock throbs inside me. ‘“ I wouldn’t ask you to if I didn’t think I could take it.” I choke out and he presses small kisses from my neck to my back. 

He moves away with his cock still inside of me. “Remember, you asked for this.” He says gruffly before snapping his hips against mine hard and fast. My hands fall from the headboard as my back arches, my face in his pillow as he fucks into me relentlessly.

‘Fucks’ fall from my mouth as I feel him twitch inside me, his finger also moving at a pace that has my clit throbbing. Shadows cooling my heated body as I tumble closer to an orgasm. Xaden finally being rough with me has me tumbling over the edge as he fills me, fucking his cum deep inside of me as I lose my breath. 

My body feels weightless as it drops to the bed, Xaden gives a few light thrusts before sliding his cock out. I hiss at the sensitivity as he lets go of me and falls to the other side of the bed. Both of us panting from exhaustion. “You okay?” He asks, turning to face me as I weakly lift my head to look at him.

His usual put-together appearance is devilish with sweat gleaming on his face. My mind is hazy as I manage to nod. He pulls me into him, letting me be the little spoon as he wraps are sweaty cum coated bodies together. Silence covers the room, the only sound being our breathing as I drift. My eyes close as my breathing slows,

“Tell your dragon we’re having words once they're done.” Xaden comments and I sigh mumbling out a “Not worth the trouble. He’ll just threaten to incinerate you.” He grumbles before dropping a kiss to my head, my hair splayed out every as I drift back into unconsciousness.